#genuinely it is such a powerful thing. i wonder if i ever drove people insane | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

starshine583 · 3 years

Note

For the soulmate letter prompts, Felinette with prompt O please.

O: Opportune outfit (soulmates will eternally color coordinate, even if they have not met one another yet, and often times have similar patterns in their clothing)

(Thank you @symwinter and @desiiigirl for this ask! I had a ton of fun writing it, so I hope you enjoy!)

“We’re here live tonight at the Carrousel du Louvre where Audrey Bourgeois is hosting her biggest party yet! Celebrities of all kinds will be invited, including Jagged Stone, Gabriel Agreste, and MDC herself! Stay tuned to catch sight of these incredible fashion icons!”

Marinette drew in a deep breath to calm her nerves as her miniature limo drove up to the front entrance. She’d been to plenty of parties before hosted by celebrities, but none as big as this. There were going to be reporters everywhere who would hold her under a magnifying glass all evening and powerful, influential people that she would have to tip-toe around to make a good first impression. On top of that, this was going to be the night she revealed her exclusive designer’s dress that she’d kept a secret for the last six months! It was an extremely important event for her, and she didn’t want to mess anything up.

The limo pulled to a stop in front of the red carpet, causing Marinette’s breath to catch in her throat. She quickly checked her hair and makeup, then smoothed out the corners of her dress.

“You can do this.” She muttered to herself. “You’ve already made it this far. Now, you get to show the world why.”

The driver opened her car door, and Marinette offered the reporters a bright smile as she stepped outside. Screams of delight and excitement swept over the crowds of people that were huddled on both sides of the carpet. Cameras were flashing everywhere, almost blinding her, but Marinette kept an elegant stride despite it as she signed a few autographs.

“Ladies and gentlemen, MDC has just arrived at the gala, and may I say her dress looks absolutely dazzling!” A reporter to her left trilled. “The navy blue mixed with those silver dots and stars makes it look like the night sky! And the way the sheer fabric in sewn to the dress makes it look like the stars are trailing behind her as well! It’s truly a fantastic creation, especially with that diamond, crescent moon necklace to compliment it! Could this be that secret design that MDC’s corporation has been hinting about for so long?”

Marinette tried to contain her grin, but by the time she walked inside the Carrousel du Louvre, she was positively glowing. After spending many sleepless nights working on Starry Night- as her design was called - hearing the multitude of praises from the reporters was immensely satisfying. It made the whole project feel worthwhile.

“Oh, Marinette!”

Audrey Bourgeois, having heard the commotion, waltzed over to the Louvre entrance to greet her. She seemed to be as fashionable and haughty as ever, and Marinette pulled an extra bright smile in an effort to please the woman. "Bonjour Audrey." She said politely. “It’s wonderful to see you again. Thank you for inviting me to your party.”

“Oh, think nothing of it!” Audrey replied, linking her arm with Marinette’s to guide her into the heart of the party. “I’ve been dying to speak with you about your latest designs, anyway. You’ve certainly made a name for yourself since the first time we met.”

A bit of tension melted from Marinette’s shoulders at the comment, and she felt a more genuine smile settle onto her lips. The last time she saw Audrey was when she’d been offered that job in New York, the same job that she ended up declining. It was good to know that Audrey wasn’t holding a grudge against her for that.

“Yes, these last two years have been quite eventful.” Marinette agreed. She’s managed to build a small company out of her designs that’s only continued to grow. The fact that she’d already designed things for Jagged Stone and Gabriel himself definitely helped her take-off.

“Indeed. Even my customers all the way in America have heard of you, which is why I wanted to propose a collaboration between us.”

“A collaboration?”

“Yes! Imagine how much popularity you’ll gain if we-”

“Audrey! Audrey Bourgeois!”

Audrey’s pleasant expression quickly soured when someone from across the room called out her name, interrupting whatever proposition she was going to make.

“What is it?” The woman snapped. “I’m busy.”

A man stepped forward from the crowd, his countenance stern and unimpressed. “We were supposed to talk about the location of your next fashion show. Need I remind you that I have other business I need to attend to tonight?”

Audrey huffed and rolled eyes. “Fine, fine, we’ll talk then. Marinette, dear, do me a favor and stay put while I go discuss a few matters with M Laurence.”

Marinette nodded and took to idly surveying the room while the two strolled off to another corner of the Louvre. She wasn’t sure why Audrey would have to leave to talk about fashion show locations, but she supposed it also wasn’t any of her business either. Everyone had their own way of working, right?

The Carrousel du Louvre was an extraordinary place, especially with the gold and silver decorations lining the walls. Lights reflected off of the glass pyramid that dipped into the center of the room, making it shine almost as brightly as it would in the day, and the floors were polished so well that Marinette could actually part of her reflection in it.

The guests were no less remarkable than the setting too. Save for a scarce few, she could recognize every face in the crowd, be it through newspapers, magazines, movies, or heads of rival companies. A part of her almost miniscule in the presence of such greatness. Audrey certainly knew how to throw an enchanting party.

“Yo, Marinette! Is that you?”

A voice that Marinette immediately recognized yelled out to her, and she turned around with an eager smile to greet them.

“Uncle Jagged! When did you get here?”

Jagged wormed his way out of the crowd with a wide grin. “I should be asking you the same thing! That dress looks great by the way.”

Marinette giggled and offered him a little spin. “Thanks! It took me forever to finish it. How have you been?”

“Oh, the usual. I’ve been rock and rollin’ to my heart’s content. Have you tried the food here yet?”

“Afraid not. Audrey told me to stay put until she came back from a meeting with somebody.”

Jagged scoffed and gently took her by the arm. “Audrey Shm-audrey. You’re an adult now! You can do whatever you want, like coming to try these over-priced cream puffs with me.”

Marinette snorted, but before she could reply, a cacophony of squeals tugged her attention to the front entrance of the Louvre. Someone new was joining the party, and it had the reporters quite excited.

“It appears that Felix Culpa has decided to come to the gala after all! There was speculation of him skipping out, but we’re happy to see him regardless!”

Annoyance swirled in the back of her mind at the mention of the actor, though she tried to hide it for the sake of civility. Ever since she started her small fashion business, Felix Culpa has been indirectly stealing her designs and wearing them without giving her an ounce of credit. She’s not sure how, since she’s jumped through who knows how many hoops to keep her projects a secret, but he does. Magazines, social media, behind-the-scenes pictures from his movies- anything he appears in, he’s wearing something of hers, be it a t-shirt or a tuxedo or a button-up shirt with jeans. It was infuriating, and no matter how hard she tried, she could not figure out where the leaks were coming from. No one was sending out emails, no one was going to visit him in person, and no one was posting any pictures of the working process online. And yet, he still managed to match his outfit with everything she created.

She couldn’t even sue him for copyright! Because, technically, all of the outfits that he’d worn so far had been made from a mix of his own wardrobe, and that, unfortunately, wasn’t a crime.

Whatever, she thought to herself with a slight shake of the head. At least he can’t copy me tonight.

“What’s this?” A reporter gasped. “Folks, I’m not sure if I’m actually seeing this, but Felix Culpa has just stepped out in a silver tuxedo with a navy, button-up shirt underneath that matches MDC’s outfit exactly!”

Marinette’s jaw had to have dropped to the floor when she heard those words. How was that possible? There was no way Felix could have coordinated his outfit with hers! No one even knew what she was going to be wearing! Unless this some insane coincidence?

“Oh, Look at that! He even has a small, diamond star clipped to his tie! Could Felix Culpa be dressed as MDC’s moon?!”

Marinette whirled around to face the entrance. This was most certainly not a coincidence. Even if he did decide to wear a silver tux tonight, nothing should have prompted him to wear a diamond star clip. Not unless he was trying to copy her designs again.

“Marinette? Are you alright?” Jagged Stone asked, noticing the sudden shift in her mood.

“I’m fine.” She said, forcing a leveled tone as she eyed the door. “I’m just going to go greet M Culpa, if you don’t mind.”

“ No problem! Come find me by the hors d'oeuvres when you’re done.”

Marinette didn’t bother throwing Jagged a tight smile as she stalked towards the door. Instead, she focused on how, exactly, she was going to call this esteemed actor out on his indirect theft without making a scene. This was a high class party, and she couldn’t afford to make a fool of herself. At the same time, however, she desperately needed to know how he’d been matching her outfits to a fault.

Felix Culpa strode into Louvre a moment later, wearing the very tuxedo that the reporter had described. The silver jacket and dress pants matched the glittering stars on her dress, while the navy blue, button-up shirt underneath matched the main color of her outfit. Don’t even get her started on the diamond clip! It was like the thing had been bought as a pairing with her necklace! The only way he could have coordinated with her that well was if he looked at a picture of her dress directly, which didn’t make any sense. He couldn’t have seen her dress! It’s been in her personal apartment since she started working on it!

His eyes scanned over the room leisurely, stopping when they landed on her, and for a moment, Marinette felt her anger falter, because my gosh was he a gorgeous man. She’d seen pictures of him plenty of times, but they apparently didn’t do him any justice. His strong jawline and defined cheekbones were perfectly framed by his pale, blond hair in a way she’d never noticed before. Then, there was his slender figure that the tuxedo seemed to cling to..

Marinette shook her head slight. Focus! There was a reason I was walking over here!

She offered the man a smile as she approached him, so as not to alarm him towards her somewhat hostile intentions, and he returned the smile with a slight nod.

“I assume you’re MDC?” He said in greeting.

Marinette nodded, barely holding back a sarcastic tone as she replied, “What gave me away?”

A small smile graced Felix’s lips, and he gestured to her dress. “I believe I’m supposed to be your ‘moon’.”

Marinette swore she felt her eye twitch. Was he being smug about it now?

“Yes, it would seem that way.. If I might ask, what prompted you to dress that way this evening?”

Felix glanced over his outfit thoughtfully, before giving her a little shrug. “Nothing in particular, I suppose. I simply felt like it.”

Marinette bit her tongue to avoid scoffing. He simply felt like it? No one accidentally coordinates their outfit with a specifically crafted dress because they ‘feel like it’. That’s just preposterous!

“I would like to compliment your work, though. It is my understanding that you brought that dress to life yourself?”

“..I did.”

“It’s phenomenal craftsmanship. I’m afraid I’ve only heard of you in name alone, but the praise clearly wasn’t over-exaggerated-”

Marinette furrowed her eyebrows. Did he just say that he’d only heard of her in name alone? Meaning he hadn’t seen any of her other designs yet?

“-I couldn’t imagine stitching that many stars onto a single garment.”

“I’m sorry,” She politely cut him off. Did he expect to get away with lying straight to her face? “But did you just say you’d heard of me in name alone?”

He nodded. “I’ve been rather busy as of late and haven’t had time to check with things in the fashion industry.”

“Then how do you explain your other outfits?”

A blank expression fell across Felix’s features. “I beg your pardon?”

“Your other outfits.” Marinette repeated, almost through gritted teeth. “I have proof that you’ve been blatantly plagiarizing my designs for the past two years. How do you explain that if you supposedly haven’t seen any of my work until now.”

Felix raised a brow, appearing to be genuinely confused. “Mademoiselle, I can assure you that I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”

This time, Marinette did scoff. How could he not know what she was talking about? If it had been once or twice, Marinette could write it off, but consistently matching her designs for two years? That’s no accident. How else would he manage to-

“Oh, there they are!” A reporter gasped. “MDC and Felix Culpa have already found each other! The moon and stars circling around each other as always. I’ve never seen such a fashionable pair of soulmates!”

Marinette froze, and from the looks of it, Felix froze too.

Soulmates.. Color coordination.. Was that why Felix had been ‘plagiarizing’ her outfits all of this time? Was that why he claimed not to know anything about it even though it was glaringly obvious? Had she been obsessing over a mystery that had had a reasonable answer right in front of her face all along?

Her eyes trailed down to his suit, the suit that matched hers perfectly, and the realization that washed over her nearly caused her to face-palm.

He hadn’t been copying her designs.

He’d been copying her outfit specifically.

Because they were soulmates.

“..What was that you said about my plagiarizing your designs?” Felix asked after a moment.

Marinette let out a defeated sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Well, I feel ridiculous now.”

A soft chuckle passed Felix’s lips, and she glanced up just in time to catch the spark of amusement dancing in his silver eyes. Gosh, this beautiful human being was supposed to be her soulmate now? How was she going to cope? How was she going to Alya, the person she’d been ranting to for a good year now, about this new development? Actually, did Alya know about this all along? She always did act strange when Marinette brought it up, with her sly smirks and mischievous smiles and-

Felix offered his arm to her. “I, personally, would love to hear about this ridiculousness if you don’t mind sharing.”

Marinette pressed her lips into a thin line, a blush creeping onto her cheeks, but she took his arm with a huff despite it. “I guess I might as well tell you. We’re probably going to be spending a lot more time together after this, anyway.”

“Whatever gave you that idea?” Felix replied lightheartedly, shooting her a smirk that made her heart skip a beat.

Marinette glanced away to regain some composure, but failed miserably as she only felt herself blush harder. Darn Felix Culpa and his stupid, breathtaking face.

She absolutely loved it.

(Send me a letter and I’ll do a thing!)

(The next one I’m going to be working on is J for Daminette!)

#asks #felinette #Soulmate AUs

196 notes · View notes

whispersafterdusk · 3 years

Text

Lost in Time - ch 12

Spring was here; it was still cold but now it was a lot wetter. He missed the snow in a way, since it was essentially a readily available cold pack for sore muscles.

And oh boy, were Arlo's muscles sore.

Eli had started them out easy; a couple weeks of basic work outs with her slowly introducing new techniques and exercises each Monday with the weekend set aside for rest and recuperation. But by the second month of spring she'd started ramping things up: harder, more grueling exercises, longer sessions, diet requirements. He could tell he was starting to put on muscle mass already but all the work left him so stiff and sore that he often got back to his room in the evenings, climbed into bed, and didn't move again until morning came.

He couldn't go straight home tonight though; his day had started bright and early with the group exercises, then he'd spent another afternoon down in the facility, and tonight he was supposed to meet Nora at the Round Table for dinner. It was the first arranged meeting they'd had in...awhile. No amount of sore muscles would have him missing this. ((Continued below cut))

-------------------------------

The Barnarock Black was her Thursday evening drink of choice, and being as it was both a Thursday as well as right on heels of a several-hours-long social meet-up with Carol and Antoine, Eli was ready for a drink.

And food. Being as she hadn't expected the meeting to last as long as it had she'd skipped lunch, and while there were snacks and tea she had to really restrain herself from eating a ton of junk food while trying her best to ignore the rumblings in her stomach. Thankfully the chatter never really let up so she didn't think anyone had heard her gut screeching for sustenance but once they'd all parted ways she'd all but run down the street toward the Round Table.

On her way through the door she was almost knocked over by Nora leaving; the girl had thrown the door wide open and slammed it (accidentally) into Eli's hand as she'd been reaching for the handle to open it herself. As Nora shuffled by with a half-apology and all but ran toward the hill leading toward the church Eli stood there both wondering what the heck had prompted her to rush out of there while also trying to awkwardly pinch shut the fresh cut over her middle knuckle before it started to really bleed.

Inside the Round Table she could see Asher at the long side of the counter, Dawa and Dana at the far end of the counter taking up the pair of stools there, Mars and his daughters in a back booth, and Gale and his family were sitting at the round table in the middle of the room. Sonia was busy buzzing back and forth between tables and the back of the restaurant and Django was nowhere to be seen but based on the number of people in here he was probably up to his ears in food orders.

"Evening," Asher greeted her as she took a seat next to him. He tilted his head and got a look at her hand. "Need something for that?"

"Nah. It's just a scrape. Did Django not have her favorite pie or something?"

"Who?"

"Nora, isn't it? With the church?"

"Oh, yeah - that was Nora. No idea. Didn't even know she was here until she left - I never seem to notice that side room there."

Eli knew what he was talking about; there was what looked like a newer addition on the front of the restaurant - it had a large bookcase stuffed full of books, a radio on a stand alone cabinet, and a single booth with a pair of loveseats (which wasn't so odd considering that instead of benches or chairs at the other booths there were plush couches that seated 3, maybe 4 if you piled in together). It was easy to let your attention slide right passed it since you couldn't really see it or see into it unless you crossed the room to the tables on the back wall.

It looked like just Arlo was sitting-

Ah. Ok then.

Eli inhaled through her teeth - an awkward hiss, of sorts - and sat down at the counter. It took awhile for Sonia to make it over and take her order; the cut on her knuckle kept oozing and she'd resorted to periodically swiping the blood off with a thumb and then sticking said thumb into her mouth.

"You SURE you don't want something to wrap that in?"

"All the napkins here are cloth. I'd rather not stain them with a bodily fluid."

Asher rolled his eyes and pulled a rumpled, dark green handkerchief out of his pocket and offered it. "And before you ask, no, I haven't blown my nose into it. It's clean but stained so don't worry about adding to it."

As he said the handkerchief WAS stained - looked like oil, and blood too - but she wrapped it around and tied it off. "Well, at least I won't drip anywhere. Thanks. I hate how much hands bleed before clotting up."

"I agree - knees and shins too. And no problem. I've actually never, ever needed to blow my nose in one of those - my dad made me carry one around for that purpose and I always end up using it for something else. It's a pretty gross concept, really...stuffing a crud-filled cloth back into my pocket. And I'm supposed to use it several times over a day?" Asher wrinkled his nose at that. "And I say that after having gutted fish and food animals...guts and blood? Totally fine. Snot? No thank you."

Eli chuckled; he had a point, after all. He also still had a noticeable bruise across his cheek from a cross-country jog last week where he'd taken a tree limb right to the face when an end piece had snapped off and slapped the rest of it directly back into him as he'd gone to push passed it. "We usually had bandages and tissue glue on hand for little things like this. I've even stuck industrial tape over cuts to hold it over until I got back to treat it properly. Drove Peter absolutely insane doing that. Was good times..."

"Peter?" Asher repeated.

She leaned forward and braced her elbows on the counter, putting her chin in her hands. "Yeah - he was one of our team medics. Him and Ashley, kept us pieced together and put all the blood and chunks back where they belonged."

Asher nodded slowly at that. "Not a bad idea - having a dedicated medical person. It's not something we typically do unless it's a big expedition. But, we all have some basic first aid training so it's not like we're heading out without anything at all."

"Do you have assigned squads in your Flying Pigs? I'm not even sure what an adventuring guild is."

"Not really," he answered. "We're a sort of grab bag group - we pick and choose who goes where, unless someone was specifically requested for a contract job. As for what we do we inspect old ruins for dangers and clear them out, protect those who need protecting, and we help map out areas that no one's been to in centuries. We've been a bit focused on that lately - eventually we'll make better strides out into the Peripheries and the Great Begeondan and get some settlements in place there too but, no lie, those are some of the most dangerous places on the continent. Full of monsters and rogue AIs, weird weather, extreme temperatures too."

"Sounds like my kind of place."

The look he gave her was somewhere between surprise and suspicion. "You're...joking, right?"

"Not in the slightest. Believe it or not there were a lot of wild, wide open places still left in the world back in my time period. A lot of our training happened out in harsh areas, and sometimes we'd get called in to go track down some idiot tourist or terrorist that had disappeared out there. Rangers had to be ready for just about anything, in any climate or location, for any reason."

Now he looked less like he thought she was joking and more just genuinely surprised. "So - I mean. It just seems weird to me that what survived through the ages were stories of humans living lazy, luxurious lives, with robots doing everything. And then you say there were wild spaces and hard training and having to be ready at the drop of a hat. Why was there any need for soldiers, or rangers? At least, human ones anyway."

Eli shrugged. "Each time I hear 'robots did everything' it surprises ME because it seems like no one actually gives thought to what that means beyond its surface. Would YOU want your life in the hands of something that's one hack or power failure away from shutting off entirely, losing all your files, or turning on you? Most people tended to act honorably and not target the innocent and whatnot but still, there were those who wanted their voices heard or wanted power and control no matter how many people they incidentally or purposely killed. In hindsight the fact that the leaders of the world worked so hard to keep the nasty, dark, and terrible things out of the public eye seems to have...really slapped the rose colored glasses on, to the detriment of accurate historical record. Granted, "accurate records" were a bit of joke anyway - at least to those who knew what was being to told to military and what was sent out to civilians. Oh, a hospital got hacked? A train engine exploded for no reason? Power shut off mysteriously? Nah, nothing serious - just "equipment failures" causing weird quirks and shutdowns," Eli said, raising her hands to stick air quotes around 'equipment failures' and all but oozing sarcasm. "The world was...certainly something, compared to what it is now. But there's no such thing as a utopia. People are always going to be unhappy about something, or slip through the cracks of society and feel they have a justifiable reason to make their displeasure known in violent ways. There's a reason all the nations still had standing armies even though we'd had peace for centuries, before I was even a concept in Fate's outline. They kept us all busy with public works projects, organized war games - think big but friendly skirmishes with harmless paint-based or laser weapons with sensor suits - and, like I mentioned before, the occasional idiot tourist rescue, but it wasn't all sunshine and daisies unless you were a regular citizen."

Asher let out a soft noise - Eli thought it was 'geez' or something similar - and rubbed at his chin, going silent for a bit. Sonia brought out Eli's usual beer then disappeared just as quickly as she'd popped up; Eli had half the bottle downed before Asher spoke again.

"Bet you never thought you'd be correcting history books, huh?"

She sat the bottle down and did a half-assed imitation of jazz hands. "Ta da, I am full of surprises." That rapid shaking movement dislodged the handkerchief around her knuckles a bit so she untied and then re-tied it back into place, using her teeth this time to help tighten the knot a bit better.

Over the chatter and sounds of cutlery on plates Eli made out the sounds of plodding feet, and shifted on her stool just enough to see Arlo slouching his way toward the door; right as he reached it it opened and Remington was framed in the doorway briefly before he stepped aside.

"Oh, hey - how'd it--" Remington was cut off as Arlo slipped passed him and kept going without a word; the man stared after him a moment. "--go..." he finished his sentence with a frown, and a shake of his head. He came inside and up to the counter to take the empty stool on Eli's left. "Evening, guys."

"Evening. How's the knee?" Eli asked.

Remington slid his legs around and flexed his leg a bit. "Not as bad as I thought it'd be, by now. It hurts but no more than it does when the weather is bad."

"Good to hear. I wish flex-gel still existed...that stuff worked wonders."

"Well, we make do," Remington chuckled. "What's tomorrow looking like?"

"Starting with a warm up run, then I have a couple new things to show. They're...hard, so I won't keep you all too long at it, and you'll have the weekend to recover like normal."

"Something to look forward to, then," Remington replied.

Sonia came back with Asher and Eli's orders, took Remington's, and disappeared again.

As she picked up her fork Eli offered the two men a small grin. "I probably should have warned you both to eat light tonight. It's going to be a rough morning."

-----------------------------------------------------

"Before today...no idea...what a burpee was," Asher wheezed from where he was laying flat on his back on the grass. "Can't say I care for them....or the reverse ones..."

"A sentiment I can get behind," Sam groaned. She wasn't laying down but she was sitting a couple feet from Asher with her arms around her legs along with her head nearly between her knees.

Remington was off to the side finishing up some additional push ups with a sack of sand on his back for weight; Eli had let him do a few burpees to see how his knee held up and had eventually decided not to risk blowing the joint out. While Sam and Asher did regular and reverse burpees with one-pound sacks of sand in each hand Remington had to do lunges, sit ups, and push ups with a five pound sack.

For whatever reason though Arlo wasn't present.

Earlier, before they'd started on their run, Eli had caught Remington and Sam sharing a knowing look, and when asked neither of them owned up to knowing why Arlo had skipped today. She'd decided not to press the issue and had gone about the morning as she'd planned; being as the burpees had wiped everyone out she was content to not do their cool down jog and was just settling on the top of the fence when she spied Arlo's figure coming toward them from Portia's gates. He was...slouching a bit, and looked a little tired.

"Morning," she called when he was within not-quite-shouting distance.

"Morning. Sorry, didn't mean to miss today."

"No problem. I can do a repeat if you're still up for it."

From his spot still flat on the ground Asher raised a hand. "Run - run while you still can."

Eli snorted. "Well, yeah - running is part of the routine."

"Not what I meant," Asher chuckled. He rolled over and groaned as he got to his feet. "I've got to get back out to the facility...maybe lay down somewhere that isn't wet and muddy for a bit before I get dragged into the depths to watch some old folks fart around in piles of dust."

With a smile Eli slid off the fence. "Remind them to leave things where they found it and to not try turning anything on. Going to be hard enough as it is to unlock personal stations without them tripping the lock out mechanisms."

"They've been fairly good at keeping their hands to themselves now that they have Stewart to entertain them but I'll remind them. See you guys later."

With that Asher headed out of the fence gate and headed toward town; he was walking in a slow, wincing manner, and Eli made a mental note to go a bit easy on them on the next couple of work days. A few moments later and Arlo was standing at the fence - on the outer side - and after a pause he sighed.

"I have something I need to speak to you privately about, if you have time."

"Sure." She hopped off the fence and looked to Sam and Remington. "If you want to do your cool downs that's up to you but otherwise I'll see you guys Monday morning, or whenever I next run into you."

She left through the gate and walked alongside Arlo down the road heading toward the shoreline; by her estimate they were halfway to the harbor before he started speaking.

"I wanted your opinion on something because it technically involves you. But first I need to ask - have you noticed anyone treating you differently, or rudely, lately?"

Eli shook her head. "Not that I've noticed. There's still some people that I think I make nervous but they're also not anyone I speak to or see often." She paused and then let out a small huff of laughter. "I think I'm doing a pretty good job proving I'm harmless to people I see on a day to day basis."

Arlo nodded at that and his pace slowed just a bit. "Have you interacted with Nora or Lee much?"

"Ha, no. Nora runs away from me and I think Lee would walk straight through the side of a building to avoid walking on the same street as me. I do notice he gets a bit louder in his sermons in the plaza if he sees me nearby but he doesn't directly single me out."

"So, you don't think Lee has had too much influence on how others are treating you?"

Eli slowed to a stop; Arlo took a few more steps before stopping but he didn't turn around. "Not that I can tell. But I'm guessing he's got some sort of influence over YOU and I'm at the center of it, right?"

He sighed heavily, sounding annoyed. "Yes, unfortunately." For several moments he stood there silently, then finally turned around to look back at her. "Nora and I were sort of dating. I'm not really sure if we were officially a couple or not. There's...something there, but I don't know what. The thing is, she broke things off with me last night because of my association with you."

Eli raised an eyebrow at that. "Don't tell me she thinks you were cheating?"

"No, nothing like that," he answered quickly. "She's not happy that I'm openly associating with something the Church is so against."

"...the past," Eli sighed; Arlo nodded in response. "You know that's a bit ridiculous, right?"

"The Church has its views, and I have my own regarding technology from the old world. I agree that there's a lot of dangerous things left behind from your time period. But I also agree that not all of it could possibly be bad. If it was ALL bad I feel like there wouldn't BE a past for us to be studying. I know Nora strongly believes we shouldn't be using things from the past but I also know she's changed her mind on a few things once she'd directly experienced it or learned about it. Knowing that, I feel like Lee is responsible for her...stance, I guess, regarding associating with you."

"So confront him about it."

"That's...something I'm considering," he replied after a pause. "But what I wanted to talk to you about was your own personal experience with Portia's townsfolk. Gale was pretty direct about wanting to hear about any sort of trouble that Lee is causing, in the context of it causing YOU trouble. But this doesn't directly affect you in any way, it just affects me. If it's not your life he's interfering with then I don't know if I should tell Gale and risk rocking the boat."

"I think you should," Eli said, crossing her arms and glancing over a shoulder toward the distant and yet somehow looming pinnacle that the Church sat on. "If she wanted to break things off it should be HER decision, not because some crusty evangelizer told her to. No preacher or employer or authority figure should be free to meddle to that degree in someone's personal life. Not to mention that he's just asking for Balance to beckon and Judgement to come reckon..."

Arlo looked briefly confused by that last bit; Eli just shrugged - she could always explain the phrase to him later if he was interested. "-look, even if it's not affecting me directly it's clear I'm being used as a sort of weapon here. I could care less if someone is cursing my name up, down, and sideways, but I really don't like the idea that I'm essentially being used as a political bludgeon. In fact, I think I'LL go talk to Nora and get the real story out of her."

"I'd rather she not know-"

"Do you really think she'd just expect you not to tell anyone?" Eli interrupted. "Or that no one would notice you two split and not have questions?"

"I... I guess not." He sighed heavily again and tilted his head back to stare up into the sky. "I just don't want to cause a rift between anyone."

"Let me see what I can find out and THEN we can decide if we want to rock this particular boat or not. Might be that IF Lee was behind this, and IF he thinks he got away with it, he might try it again with other people and then THAT might actually affect me directly. If anything it's worth it to try and stop that before the metaphorical rocking ends up capsizing instead."

Arlo nodded. "All right, I guess. I'm going to head back to the Corps building. Let me know what you found out."

"Will do."

They walked back to town in silence and at the base of the hill near the plaza Arlo kept going while Eli took a sharp left to head to the path that spiraled up to where the church sat on top of a ruins (and if it was the location she thought it was it had once been several floors of administrative offices, a number of clothing boutiques, and a ground floor restaurant). By the time she got to the top and was looking at the church's doors that familiar feeling of nostalgia had hit her...nostalgia felt like a strange emotion to be having but she supposed it was a step up from the usual soul-crushing gut punch she usually got when she let herself think about something she recognized.

"Knock knock, anyone home," she found herself muttering as she shouldered the door open and stepped into the quiet chapel.

It was nice in here, at least - nothing opulent or over the top. Pews, carpet down the aisle, banners and a chandelier, stained glass windows and murals on the walls. There was a fountain near the back wall behind the pulpit (which was just a small podium with a book sitting open on it), and she thought she could see a piano back there too.

The only thing breaking up the silence was the gurgle of water and the rhythmic sounds of sweeping coming from somewhere to her left; Eli walked up the small ramp into the sanctuary proper and from that spot she spied Nora off in the corner with a broom in hand.

The girl looked up to her and Eli saw her tense up.

"Morning. If you've got a moment I'd like to speak with you," Eli said. Not much of a greeting but the girl already didn't like her so no amount of politeness was probably going to change much.

"I uh...I need to finish sweeping." The girl was gripping her broom like she thought Eli was going to attack her; Eli wondered what exactly Lee had been telling her.

"That's fine. I can wait."

It was clear Nora had been hoping Eli would just leave but instead she watched silently as Eli moved a bit further into the room and sat down on the back pew there. Eli kept looking forward, admiring what she could see of the murals on the nearby wall; eventually she heard the sweeping start up again and could track Nora by sound as the woman finished up in that corner and moved down to the entryway, then back up and across into the corner on the right. She heard the scrape of a metal dust pan and the clatter of what she guessed was the top of a trash can opening and closing, and then silence. Eli let the silence stretch on for a bit before turning around; Nora seemed like she was debating whether she should run out the door or not but froze when she noticed Eli looking at her.

"Good to go?"

"Go...where?"

"I figured we could just step outside so if your minister shows up he can't yell at me for being on church property."

Nora inhaled and exhaled slowly then nodded, and mutely headed out the door; Eli followed along as the girl headed off to the right, to a wooden platform that was similar to the other wooden platforms that made up sections of the path that led up here -- it lined up with the path, in fact, and made it look like whoever had built it had intended to keep going up and around into the sky. She had a slight twinge of discomfort from the fact the platform gave a clear view of the land around Portia which included quite a few destroyed buildings.

Don't think about it.

"All right," she said then, blowing out a breath. "I'll get right to it: Arlo told me. And I want to know if that was YOUR decision or if Lee put you up to it. Because he's not sure and I'm not happy to be in the middle of this."

Nora winced slightly and rubbed at an arm, and at first didn't respond. Eli stuck her hand in her pockets and purposely looked to the left and down into the tree farm while trying to ignore the ruined observatory that she could still see out of the corner of her eye.

"We talked about it...and I agreed, so it was my decision," Nora finally said. "The relics of the past are dangerous, we shouldn't be embracing anything from that time period."

Eli turned her attention back to the girl. "Including me?"

"It's..."

"Look, I get it - you church folk aren't going to like that I exist. I'm a living reminder of how humanity almost wiped themselves out. I'm not asking you to like me. I am asking you if YOU made the decision to break things off with Arlo, on your own, for your own reasons, or if Lee convinced you to do it because in his mind it was the right thing to do because of Arlo's associating with me."

Nora's shoulders slumped a bit and again she was silent for a long period. "...I guess it's a bit of both. Lee's said that-"

"-let me stop you right there. Lee hasn't bothered talking to me, period. Whatever he's said I intend to do or teach is something he pulled directly out of his own ass." At that Nora's eyes widened a bit but Eli didn't know if it was due to the language or because of some possibility that she'd exposed Lee for lying. "Here's the thing. I know a lot about a lot of dangerous things everyone seems afraid of - AIs, weapons, computers, devices. Just because I know how something works, or worked, doesn't mean I can replicate it here. For every one thing I could maybe manage to write up a technical readout for there's fifty others that I can't. I know how to put a plasma pulse rifle together but I couldn't begin to tell you how to make one starting from a raw material base; I could describe step by step how to troubleshoot an anti-grav propulsion unit but hand me every single separate part, down to the nuts and bolts, and I'd have no clue how to assemble it. There's a lot of things that, if it already exists, I could probably get it working again but there's no way I could build it from the ground up because even if I knew everything about everything, the fact remains that your technological level just isn't where it needs to be to MAKE anything."

Nora simply stood and listened silently, and was staring at some indeterminate point on the horizon past the tree farm.

"...so," Eli said into the silence that followed. "Was it Lee, or was it your choice?"

Nora hung her head. "You already know the answer to that."

"I was hoping I was wrong. So, barring Lee's meddling, WOULD you have made that choice?"

To her surprise Nora lifted her head and answered immediately. "Yes. I think so, anyway. Just...not like I did, or when I did."

Eli nodded approvingly at the admission. "All right, we're getting somewhere then. What's the ACTUAL reasoning then?"

"I just... I don't know. I'm attracted to him - he's brave, and handsome, and kind. But I feel so... I love his stories, and love spending time with him, but there's so many times where once he runs out of stories it gets...it's like we run out of things to talk about. We don't have much in common it seems. I try to find things to talk about but its usually the same things each time - the weather, the news. I've even tried telling him about books I like but I feel silly trying to explain an entire book's plot. And..."

Eli raised an eyebrow. "And?" she prompted - she wasn't going to let her clam up now that the proverbial dam had apparently burst.

"-I was only supposed to stay in Portia for two years. I asked to stay longer and was granted an extension to my mission with the Church, and while I love Portia I can't stay here forever. I have schooling to finish in Atara and then I'd like to settle down and start a family, and Arlo wants to join the Flying Pigs and would be traveling all over. I don't think either of us can stay with the other unless someone wants to give up a dream."

"Aha..." Eli muttered. "That I can understand. Mine and my husband's jobs kept us apart quite a bit but neither of us would have ever asked the other one to give up their career."

"How...did it work out, then?"

Eli gave her a small smile. "We enjoyed every moment we got together, when we had the time. Truth be told, my marriage was arranged - I just got super lucky in that I actually fell in love with the person my parents picked." At Nora's shocked look she held up a hand. "I know, it sounds weird - arranged marriages weren't at all popular back then, and were even against the law in a lot of places. But all the men I was around were all soldiers or rangers, and I didn't want to marry another serviceman. My parents picked someone I knew in gradeschool so he wasn't a total stranger, and we ended up fitting together nicely."

"Phyllis ran away from an arranged marriage...I didn't think one could be successful."

"Don't get me wrong - I thought long and hard before I asked my parents to do that for me, AND asked them to make it clear to whoever needed to hear it that I wouldn't be putting my boots away if I got married. It's not something I would ever suggest to another person. But, to get back on track, I'm only mentioning my marriage and circumstance because it's entirely possible you and Arlo could make it work even if you're apart for long periods of time. It just boils down to, do you think that's what you'd want?"

Again Nora fell quiet, and Eli stayed where she was while the other walked over to the edge of the platform and leaned against it with her arms folded across the top plank of the fence. Standing there, in the quiet, Eli could hear footsteps coming up the path and assumed they were about to be interrupted - probably by Lee. She gave Nora a couple more minutes before clearing her throat to grab her attention.

"Give it some thought, and be honest with yourself. And when you have your answer, walk your happy little butt down to the Corps building and be honest with Arlo. You're still welcome to dislike me," Eli added after a moment, smiling slightly. "I hear someone coming though so I should probably make myself scarce."

"All right...I'll do that," Nora replied, voice quiet.

Eli nodded to her and then turned to plod back down the path. As she expected she passed Lee coming up; he gave her a brief sour look then turned his nose up to her and sped up to get by her faster. She managed to keep from rolling her eyes until she had her back to him and once she'd circled around enough to put him entirely out of sight she sped up into a trot -- may as well get her cool down jog done. She would check in with Arlo later this afternoon instead (it made more sense to give Nora time to go talk to him on her own, before Eli went to tell him what she'd said -- it'd also mean a lot more for him to hear it from Nora).

As she passed under Portia's gate she paused at the split in the road; ordinarily she'd jog down to the harbor and back with the others for their cool down run. If she hung a right here she'd go up to the tree farm and she could easily keep going and check in at the facility - today was supposed to be one of her free days to do...whatever she felt like, but she didn't have much in mind to do. Maybe she could get back to rummaging through the spare parts and start the onerous duty of stripping down and re-working the auxiliary power bank to see if they could convert it over to wind power.

Yeah, that would probably be a better use of her time today.

She paused to stretch and then continued on, jogging up the road; there was someone coming down the road toward her - someone she didn't recognize. She offered the man a smile and moved off the road into the grass, and the man returned the smile and offered a little wave as she went by.

As she got to the tree farm's gate it swung open and out came Dawa, and when he saw her he waved at her and gestured for her to pause.

"Hey, Eli!"

"Hello Dawa. You need something?"

"Was Selene home when you left?"

"Uh... I actually have no idea. I usually get up and out of the house before she does and I spent the morning out exercising with the Corps folks."

Dawa nodded and grunted. "Ah, all right. Was hoping to possibly save myself a trip down there. But no big deal - it's not like I'm walking across the continent," he chuckled.

"I'm just out for a jog, I could turn around and see if she's there and then send her your way."

Dawa considered that a moment, then nodded. "If you don't mind. I've got a lot of work I need to get done by tonight and any minute I can save is worth it."

Eli raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? Need a hand with anything?"

"Nah, it's just a lot of chopping and getting things delivered on time. I can manage it...I think."

"Fair enough. I'll go have a look and come back up this way if she's not there."

"Thanks Eli!" he called after her as she turned around and jogged back down the path.

She caught up to that same man from before on the way back; he'd stopped not too far from where she'd first passed him, and was sitting on a bit of broken stone off the side of the road watching her approach. With how he had his feet propped up she could see his brown leather boots were worn and had a few holes in them, and they matched his equally worn duster coat; the man himself also looked weathered and old.

"Hello again," she said as she came up.

"Hey," was the man's response.

When she got back to the house she did in fact find Selene working in her factory and let her know Dawa was looking for her. She got a sort of distracted, non-committal promise to go talk to him and then Eli left the builder to whatever it was she was piecing together and once again jogged up the path toward the tree farm.

The man was still sitting there; he'd taken his coat off and had it draped over the rock beside him. His clothes were baggy but were in considerably better condition than his coat and boots were.

"You stuck in a rut?" was the man's gravelly greeting as she jogged near him for a third time.

She laughed quietly. "Just playing messenger for a bit."

She heard him chuckling behind her as she kept going; it didn't take long to let Dawa know Selene would be along in a bit and then she continued on out to the facility. Down there it was easy to lose track of time and before she knew it it was early evening - far later than she'd actually intended to be down here...she REALLY needed to recreate a damn Hi-Def or, bare minimum, get a pocket watch or something.

At the very least the tourist man wasn't still sitting on his rock when she went by there again; she did spot him sitting at the nearest booth in the Round Table though, and offered him a nod when she thought he was looking her way. He didn't respond but that wasn't a big deal - at least no one could claim she wasn't friendly to strangers.

"Eli!"

She paused, halfway to a stool at the counter, and turned when she heard Arlo. He looked to be in better spirits and was waving her over to the table where he, Remington, Asher, and Petra were sitting together.

As she headed over Arlo slid to the side to make room for her on the end of the couch next to him and Petra shifted around to the other side; in the few seconds it took to cross the room and sit down Sonia had come over to the table for her order. Remington, Petra, and Asher all had half-finished drinks in front of them.

"Did you find that sensor thing you were looking for?" Asher asked as she sat down.

"Nope," she answered. "Granted, I didn't spend too much time looking for it though. Started in on tearing down the aux unit and making a list of what needs replacing. We're going to need an amp converter for sure but I'm fairly confident we can manage to make it work."

"That's good news," Petra said. "We already have the wind generator blueprints and have several up near South Block that are working just fine. If you can give us an idea of the power output that's needed we can see if we need to alter those blueprints."

"I'm still working on that. The main hitch is deciding what numbers to use and how to get them - we won't be using the same amount of power that the facility did in its hey day but I also don't know of any other number to use just yet. I might have to ask Stewart to set aside a week and just run everything from lights to toasters down there to see what consumption level it can even hit, then add some zeroes to account for potential future increases and then see what I get."

Petra nodded. "That makes sense. I just hope the wind coming down from the bluffs would be enough."

"Well, if its not sufficient then my backup plan was water turbines instead. There's that waterfall that's not too far away...biggest hurdle then would be waterproofing all the equipment."

At that Petra rubbed at her chin. "Water turbines and waterproofing... It might work so long as we can avoid altering Portia's water quality."

"Shouldn't be any different from the motorized boats I see out in the harbor with the exception that there won't be any fuel runoff in the equation," Eli replied. "That ought to make it pretty clean."

Further discussion was interrupted as Sonia and Django brought out all of their orders together and they got to eating; when they finished Petra and Asher excused themselves, paid, and headed out. As Remington ordered a second lemonade Eli subtly leaned toward Arlo.

"Did she come find you?" It was barely above a whisper, and neither Sonia nor Remington seemed to have heard it.

Arlo nodded. "She did. We worked it out. Still friends." His voice was equally as quiet.

Eli straightened and flashed him a brief smile - she didn't need details; she was just glad Nora had followed through and Eli wouldn't have to have that conversation in her stead.

"So..." Arlo said then, voice loud and clear. "I hear I missed learning what a burpee is."

--------------------------------------

The three of them ended up sitting and chatting for quite awhile, then moved on to the back room for a couple games of darts (Remington won every single game). As they'd stood and headed back Eli again nodded to the old man in the booth and this time got a half wave and smile in response. When they came out of the game room later the man was still there nursing a single coffee. He offered them a quiet good evening and was digging in his coat pocket for gols as they were filing out through the door.

"Any plans for tomorrow?" Arlo asked, as they stood together just beyond the edge of the extended patio roof outside of the Round Table.

"Sleeping, hopefully," Remington chuckled.

Eli shrugged. "Not really. I was thinking of seeing if Selene had a rod and reel I can borrow. I'm determined to see a live frog fish for myself - it's still so hard to wrap my head around the idea of bizarre animal hybrids."

"You should talk to Qiwa - I'm sure he'd be happy to tell you all about the native fish in this region," Remington said. "He's the one who usually wears purple, if that helps."

She considered that a moment, then nodded; on her To Do list was checking with the local school to see if they had books they could lend her on wildlife, geography, and cultures of the current time period but she kept forgetting about it until it was too late in the evening to catch anyone there. "Probably a good idea. I need to start making time to learn about the world as it is, instead of focusing on telling everyone on how it was." She paused for a breath then looked to Arlo. "If you'd like to make up for today I'll have time tomorrow."

"Sounds good. In the morning, as usual?"

"Works for me. See you tomorrow," she said, smiling and heading off.

The lights were still on in Selene's factory - had she ever gone to talk to Dawa? Eli hoped so. Inside the house it was quiet; Eli took a quick bath and tiptoed into her room wrapped in just a towel. Her pajamas were not on the edge of her bed though, which where she swore she'd left them this morning. Maybe she'd overshot the edge when she'd tossed them there? As she came around to the other side of the bed to check she saw a strange pink lump partially sticking out from under the bedskirt, and under it was a single pajama pantleg.

She reached out with one bare foot, grabbed the pantleg fabric with her toes, and pulled; sliding out from under the bed came the biggest, roundest, pinkest cat she'd ever seen. It was lounging on top of her pajamas and seemed not at all disturbed by the fact it had been dragged out of its little hiding spot.

"...excuse me, who are you and also I need those." Eli had to let the towel flap open as she bent down to roll the rather sausage-shaped cat off her clothing; when she had retrieved the pajamas she dropped the towel over the animal and heard a rather confused "mrrp" noise from under it.

Selene hadn't mentioned that she owned a cat, much less a neon pink one.

The world was a very weird place nowadays.

#Lost in Time #lit #Lost in Time - ch 12 #Arlo #Dawa #Remington #Sam #Petra #Nora #Lee #My Time at Portia

5 notes · View notes

juneiswriting · 4 years

Text

Open Heart: Second Year, Chapter 7, Ethan Diamond Scene Rewrite

Author’s note: My first time doing a rewrite! Hope I captured the characters right and hope you enjoy it!

Summary: This is a rewrite of Open Heart: Second Year, Chapter 7, Ethan diamond scene

Caution: I dislike how PB changed Ethan’s backstory from book 1 to book 2, so I wrote in a way that I felt convincing.

Ethan met Baz in the corridors, and went into the office together, the office door swung open, Ariel and June were chatting, at least right before they went in. Ethan looked at both of them, June was in his seat, which raised his eyebrows, but soon Ethan’s attention turned to Ariel, who didn’t look very well. At the same time, June looked as composed as she always was. He wondered what they were talking about.

‘Who wants donuts?’ Baz hoisted the paper bag in his hand higher, with his playful tone.

‘There’d better be a glazed in there for me.’ June joked and went to Baz, checking out and picking her donut. Ethan silently rolled his eyes. Why would anyone love those sugar-loaded food-like substances? Were they planning to be at the hospital as a patient soon?

Then Ethan realized Ariel hadn’t moved, did she not also like donuts? He looked at her, she was staring at the ground, her body seemed to be tense. Ethan knew her pretty well, something had to be wrong. He cocked an eyebrow at her, ‘Something on your mind, Ariel?’

‘I’m fine.’ Ariel straightened up, slowly making her way to join Baz and June at the meeting table. Ethan followed her, and he knew she wasn’t fine. But this wasn’t the right place to talk about it, he would figure it out later, when he got a moment with her privately.

‘Alright then, let’s get to work…’ Ethan started the meeting, updating the team on new cases they got and follow ups for their patients. After he divided up assignments among the team, June and Baz headed out, Ariel was packing up the paperwork.

‘Ariel, I want you to stick with our coma patient. I think you have the best chance at convincing her to do the study.’ Ethan instructed Ariel.

He had spent the last night thinking through this, getting research funding for the team, and it felt like he was using the patient. He almost got a sleepless night. At least the research could do good to more patients, and getting research funding was not an ethical dilemma in itself. He decided to let Ariel handle this, she was always inspiring and she could see hope and good in every situation. The patient, Stephanie, could use a dose of that.

‘Got it.�� Ariel nodded, her face solemn.

‘You know you can tell me.’ Ethan leaned forward in his chair, looking Ariel in the eye, he was concerned, it must be something significant to give Ariel this look. Usually, she was a beam of sunshine, while he couldn’t admit it to her, he knew she was, both to him and to the hospital. Ariel hesitated, before she could answer, his phone buzzed, catching both of their attention. Ethan looked at the screen, ‘Incoming Call: Dad’ Ethan ran a hand through his hair in frustration, could there be a worse time for calling? He declined the call, sighed. His attention now turned towards his dad, away from Ariel.

Ariel looked at him, her eyebrows furrowed, ‘Is everything okay between you and your dad?’ She asked, and Ethan felt he had to answer truthfully. If there was anyone he could lean on with personal issues, she was the one. He remembered his talk with his dad in the coffee shop, and her support, although not needed, still warmed him.

‘He says my mother reached out again, wanting to see me. And he thinks I should.’ He thought of how his father tried to convince him, but Ethan knew nothing good could come out of that.

‘It’s infuriating. She’s essentially making me hurt my father when I say no. She won’t stop.’ Thinking of his mother made Ethan angry, she should know how she hurt both of them. Yet she wanted to hurt them even more than before.

Ethan remembered how he and dad weren't on talking terms for a while, a pretty long while, after arguing over his mother. All through high school, dad tried to make Ethan stop blaming his mother, making him forgive her, which he couldn’t and wouldn’t. This prolonged argument gave Ethan the strength to stand with his choice of applying to medical school, seeking a life for himself, despite his dad wanting him to study somewhere closer to home and become something else.

It was not long ago before Ethan managed to talk to his dad. After Naveen’s condition, Ethan felt the urge to at least try to reestablish his relationship with his dad. It took him endless sleepless nights, rethinking his choice and contemplating how he would do it. At last he decided that he was mad at his mother, and dad acted as a displacement of his anger, who he shouldn’t be mad at. Yet, when he was trying to have peace with dad, this happened.

‘I wish he would realize that this isn’t genuine, her coming back out of nowhere. She wants something, I know it.’ Instead of anger toward his mother, now Ethan felt bad for dad. The man helplessly believed that woman, who hurt him more than anything. How could he believe her?

‘How can you be sure?’ Ariel asked. Just as Ethan thought, she could always see things from the bright side. But her doing this now upset him, he suppressed his anger, no, he shouldn’t be angry at her.

‘There’s a rational explanation for everything, Ariel.’ After picking his words carefully, Ethan sighed.

‘If we’re being rational… why not get a little more information?’ Ariel asked.

‘What do you mean?’ Ethan knew she had a tendency to challenge his way of thinking, but even when it came to his personal issues? Maybe he shouldn’t be surprised.

‘Do you know where she’s staying?’

‘My dad mentioned a motel in Southie.’

‘So, let’s check it out. We could tail her, see what she’s really up to.’ Ariel said, with her usual enthusiastic tone and a grin on her face. It was impossible to say no to her. Ethan tried to stifle his lips, but still, a smile slowly spread across his face. He shook his head amused. The power this woman had on him was unbelievable.

‘That’s completely insane. And immature. And possibly immoral. And… not a bad idea.’ He chuckled. The method she suggested, must be the result of her watching too many detective movies, who knew what kids these days were watching. Even more surprising to him, he was onboard with that.

‘I haven’t seen her in twenty-five years but… more and more, I feel as though I need answers.’ Ethan was confident he was right all along, but he still wanted to know first hand. He wasn’t sure he was ready to find out, but with Ariel on his side, maybe he was. More importantly, stealing some time alone with Ariel would be great.

A light rain pattered against the windshield as they drove across town. The closer they got to Southie, the more he was nervous. Maybe he should have turned down Ariel and stayed in the hospital instead.

‘You’re sure she’s staying at the Bay Motel? It looks like a drive on the website… and nothing ever looks as good as the website.’ Ariel looked out of the window and gasped.

‘I’m sure. It’s the address she gave dad.’ Ethan shrugged, he also had no idea, he had never been to Southie before. He was usually busy in the hospital, and there wasn’t a reason for him to drive all the way here.

‘My guess is that she’s hoping a renewed relationship with me comes with a side of cash.’ Ethan was irritated, he was close with his instinct, his voice was hard. At the same time, he wished he was wrong. During his time at medical school, he had enough people trying to get close to him, just to get tips on exams. Being at his position now, there were even more people sucking up, so they could get benefit, and within seconds he thought of the big pharmas, and that Delcan Nash, he gritted his teeth. Ariel’s eyes were on him, she swallowed, ‘Maybe she’s just… thrifty.’

Ethan pulled up outside a derelict, two-story motel with rusty metal bannisters and bars over the windows. ‘...And really thrifty.’ Ariel was shocked. Ethan hid his grimace, it wouldn’t be too bad if his hypothesis on his mother’s outreaching was wrong. It’s very rare that he was wrong, but he could admit it when he was, and in this case, he was willing to admit it.

He pulled into a parking spot across the street and turned off the engine with a sigh. ‘This might have been a bad idea. It’s been twenty-five years. I don’t even know if I’ll recognize her.’ He realized that this never occurred to him. Twenty-five years was a long time, a lot could have changed.

‘You’ll recognize her.’ Ariel said with such confidence that he had to at least try believing that. They sat still in silence for a brief moment, before Ariel broke it, ‘Ethan, what happened the day she left?’

‘What little there is to remember. I was eleven, she said she needed to go to the grocery store, and then she just… didn’t come back.’ He said, staring out of the window, leaning on the steering wheel.

‘Oh, God.’ Ariel looked surprised.

‘We never saw her again. Dad was beside himself. He called the police, thinking something terrible had happened to her.’ A small wryly smile appeared on his face, and he continued, ‘He left me with a babysitter and went out searching for the 48 hours before the police were able to do anything.’ His jaws tight, the thought of his dad running away helplessly in search of that woman pissed him off, even years later. ‘They found her within a day and told Dad he’d been dumped. One laughed. Thought it was funny to see a man cry over his runaway wife.’ He snorted.

Ariel gave his shoulder a squeeze, ‘I’m so sorry Ethan.’ Her voice was calming, Ethan felt himself loosen up slightly, he shook his head, frustrated, ‘Don’t be…The thing that gets me the most isn’t that she left us… It’s that Dad forgave her.’ This was the thing that made him angry all through high school, and caused countless arguments with his dad.

‘He waited twenty-five years for her to come back, and now she’s here, and it’s not for him. And he still thinks the best of her.’ Ethan winced, he looked at Ariel, searching her eyes for support.

‘I never told him this. That the thing that stung the most back then is that I hated her… and he loved her.’ he paused to take a breath, ‘Why didn’t he ever resent her the way I did?’ He wasn't sure what he expected Ariel to say, but he meant it, he had no idea why dad was so soft, he had even more reasons to be mad at his mother. She was the woman who turned her back to his dad, making him cry for the weeks and years that passed, shattering his heart into pieces.

‘Because it’s not always that easy to fall out of love with someone.’ Ariel said with a soft voice.

Ethan saw a flick of sadness in her eyes, assuming it was for his dad, he retorted, ‘But she left him. She made a fool out of him!’ he snorted, holding his hands into fists.

‘Apparently that doesn’t matter to him.’ Ariel averted his glare and looked at the floor instead.

‘I can’t understand that.’ Ethan sighed, fell back into his seat, shaking his head. This wasn’t logical, for Ethan if something hurt you, it was the only reasonable thing to avoid it, to avoid getting hurt once again.

‘I don’t think you have to. It’s your dad’s heart. He gets to take as long as he needs to heal, even if that’s forever.’ Ariel said calmly. Ethan wanted to fight back, but he struggled to find the words. Heart, yet again the thing Ethan couldn’t understand. He disliked unpredictable, yet the heart was the thing he couldn’t make a formula out of. He sniffed and looked up through the gentle swipe of the windshield wipers.

‘That’s her!’ He gasped, eyes widened. He caught sight of a woman walking quickly across the motel parking lot. She held a magazine to shield her from the rain as she spoke into a cell phone.

‘Are you sure?’ Ariel looked at the woman and asked.

‘I’m sure’ Ethan gritted his teeth, the rage was coming back to him. After all those years, his memory with his mother slowly faded into whispers, he barely remembered her face. Yet, the moment he saw the woman walking, he knew she was the one, and this was another thing he couldn’t explain.

The woman hurried up the street and disappeared into a store. Ethan sighed and slumped back against his seat. He was so close to an answer he wanted, but part of him didn’t want to know. ‘This was a mistake. We can’t learn anything about her from fifty feet away.’ He was deflated, motioning for the car key, wanting to leave.

Ariel grabbed his arm, stopping him, ‘So let’s follow her in and do some eavesdropping.’ She was determined, her eyes intense. Ethan was taken aback, ‘I… What if she recognizes me?’ His face fell as a second, unasked question hangs in the air: What if she doesn’t? He had know idea. Seeing how he managed to recognize her in a split second, maybe she would. But what twenty-five years did to a kid was unimaginable, it was equally likely for her not to recognize him. And he didn’t know which way he preferred.

‘Then I’ll go. She’ll have no idea who I am.’ Ariel gave his arm a squeeze, and proceeded to leave the car. ‘Ariel, no, you don’t need to do this for me.’ He tried to stop Ariel, but with the word he said and the tone of his voice, he doubted he would even convince himself.

‘I know. I want to.’ Ariel looked him in the eyes, with a smile, her eyes warm and supportive, and with determination. Before he could say anything, she went out, closing the door behind her. Ethan fell back on his seat.

He didn’t doubt her words. He knew how far she would go for her friends. She had the passion towards people, and she put herself before others. She was always by her side, since the day she came in as an intern. There seemed to be no way he could get away from her, it felt like the inevitable. It took all his restraint to keep himself from her. He cared about her, so much that he couldn’t bear the thought of putting himself in the way of her career. He knew she could be the greatest doctor there had ever been, even surpassing himself. It was his job, his calling to push her where she needed to be. Before that, what he wanted didn’t matter, it would be foolish and selfish for him to allow his emotion take charge.

He was angry with himself, it was his dad and his mother, why couldn’t he figure out what and how to do on his own? Why must he drag Ariel with him? He didn’t want to, but he couldn’t push her away. Deep down, he knew she would find out, like how she found out about Naveen, despite his effort in hiding it from everyone. When she found out, she would still insist to help. The thought of Ariel’s smile calmed him, making him smile at himself. What did he do to deserve her? At least deserve her as a friend?

Ethan seemed to see a figure slip out of the store, he jolted up in his seat, he squinted, looking into the heavy rain. He barely made out the shape of a person. It didn’t look like Ariel, he fell back in his seat, waiting. He found himself breathing quicker, his palms were wet. He started imagining everything that could go wrong with Ariel. He stared at the steering wheel, trying to calm himself. She would be fine… Nothing could go wrong...

Suddenly the car door opened, and Ethan jumped at it. ‘Jesus!’ he gasped, snapping back from his thought.

‘You didn’t see me coming?’ Ariel giggled.

‘I can’t see anything in all this rain.’ He rolled his eyes at her, then he furrowed his eyebrows, ‘How’d it go?

‘Ethan, she made me her unwitting accomplice in shoplifting.’ Ariel looked at the floor sheepishly.

‘Damn her.’ His jaw tightened, he knew it. That woman couldn’t be of any good. He winced, disappointed that he had to call that woman his mother even though he wanted to have nothing to do with her, since twenty-five years ago. Quickly he recomposed himself, ‘Well. That answers that, then, doesn’t it?’

‘We don’t know she’s only here for your money.’ It was unbelievable to Ethan that Ariel was still trying to make out something good in this situation, he frowned, cutting her off, ‘We know enough. We should get back to the hospital, where there are patients that needed us, where truly important things are’

He turned the engine back on, the headlights cutting twin paths through the rain. The drive started off in silence, Ethan was busy processing what had happened. He wasn’t sure was this what he wanted to know, but it was what it was, he turned to Ariel, while keeping half attention at the road, ‘Thanks for making me do this, Ariel. I think I needed it.’

‘You’re welcome, Ethan.’ Ariel replied with a grin on her face. A grin so warm that it melted his heart and his walls. Before he knew it, he was lacing his fingers tenderly through her hand, a familiar spark in the touch sent him a shiver. They exchanged a smile, and he held her hand tight all the way back to Edenbrook...

Ethan wished he could do something more than holding her hand and thanking her. He wanted to let her know that he really cared about her, more than she could imagine and more than he was comfortable admitting. He also wanted her to know he needed her, but before he ran off the cliff and destroyed her career, he had to stop somewhere safe.

#ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #fan fic #open heart #playchoice #open heart 2 #ethan ramsey fic #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart fan fic

41 notes · View notes

noknockingonmydoor · 3 years

Text

Headcanon

Semi-related tidbits on Heaven’s Door, Rohan’s isolation, obsession with reality, Pink Dark Boy, Koichi, interpersonal relationships. (warning: this is long)

You know how, at first, Araki said Rohan got his Stand after being pierced with the arrow during DiU, but then later on in Rohan at the Louvre he’s shown being adamant on not using his power to read people on Nanase back when he was 17? Yeah... lemme expand on how I see it.

He developed the power way before the events of DiU, but he had no idea what it was, or how to use it properly. Back then, it wasn’t even a Stand as we know them, just a latent power gradually getting developed in his subconsciousness, as his passion for using art as a form of authentic self-expression grew. He had no control on when and how to use it--it would just... sort of happen, mostly whenever he was really interested in someone/something--kind of like with Nanase, since, at that point, he was starting to get really interested in women and growing aware of his sexuality. (Also, she showed him kindness and genuine interest, which he craved back then--more on that at some other point, probs.) He legit thought he was insane and hallucinating the first time his powers happened and he never told anyone about it, because he didn’t want to be ostracised even more than he already was. Eventually, he accepted it as proof that he was special, meant for great things, and superior to all those who undermined him.

Oh, wait-- what’s that? People undermining, ostracising the great Rohan Kishibe? That was a thing? It’s more likely than you think.

Prior to getting famous, Rohan didn’t have a lot of life experience. For one, his childhood is an ominous big black hole in his memories, and he was homeschooled for the majority of it--by some very strict tutors, chosen by his parents... until he drove off every single one of them. The little time he spent in a more public, yet respectable educational environment as a teenager, he didn’t seem to fit in, as he didn’t know how to behave, what to talk about, how to react to things happening, what was acceptable, what was not. Not that he had anyone to talk about these things with, since his parents were always too busy, and he didn’t feel like talking about it with some unhelpful therapist. He was so sick of those. Many of his peers were quick to brand him a weirdo and avoid him, if they didn’t outright mock him about his shut-in lifestyle, his appearance, his interests--anything at all, really. Admittedly, it stung to be treated that way, but he didn’t want it to be obvious, so he shielded himself with displays of arrogance and lack of care for their opinions, which later escalated into an impressive amount of narcissism. It only made those same people resent him more, but they mostly left him alone... save for the few who saw through it and kept on provoking him. Once he’d finally had enough, he went off on them so hard that he almost got punched in the face and caused an incident that almost got him expelled, if it weren’t for his parents meddling in to pull some strings. (Ironically, Rohan would later on drop out in his final year, and cut out all contact with his parents. Whoops. More on his relationship with his parents at some other point)

He showed no remorse at all for his actions, which earned him both fear and respect from various individuals. He was sent to some more psychologists who didn’t help (always telling him what to think, believe, feel, as if his way of perceiving, existing wasn’t valid--which prompted his own interest and interpretation of various psychological phenomenoms), made to do extra work that only further goaded him to misbehave--nobody ever seemed to listen to him, or put an effort to understand where he was coming from. All they seemed to care about was shaping him to fit into a mold he never even wanted to fill, so he grew very resentful and mistrustful of people trying to butt in on his damn business. Feeling helpless in escaping this constricting reality, he’d often escape to his own, alternate reality, which kept him same throughout all these life’s trials. The world of Pink Dark Boy. He didn’t remember when he first came up with the character, or the world, or the story, but he had a feeling it had always been a huge part of him... and, at some point, he decided he wanted it published, revealed, shared with the world. And when Rohan Kishibe decides he really wants something... he doesn’t falter.

The earliest chapters of his work are very grimdark and edgy, because that’s how he felt while making them. Very authentic, and gut-wrenching, and believable, and terrifying and intriguing--was how the critics described it later on. Yet... there was only so much inspiration he could draw from his own experience, and retain this flattering reputation without circling around the same subjects, themes he was familiar with over and over again. At that point, he went off the rails a bit, and let his curiosity, need to know, to learn, loose far more than was wise, because he wanted to rapidly, almost forcefully, gain experience, knowledge, skill just so he could keep up with his work, and the supposed demands of his new fans (actually, his own impossible standards and demands). It worked, for a time, before he was burned out to the point of nearly losing his mind--which brings us to the events of DiU, when on a fateful whim he decided to move to Morioh, in an attempt to reconnect with his unknown childhood self, find peace, regain his mind in a town much smaller than Tokyo, where he’d lived most of his life... only to be stabbed by an arrow (possibly at his own request... lmao), and fully awaken Heaven’s Door.

It felt so, so validating to finally have a name, and an explanation for this power, however vague it was. And when he realised that he could control it, and the possibilities that such a power opened? He completely fucking lost whatever common sense he had in his euphoria, which explains his extreme behaviour when he first met Koichi (willingness to alter his memories, kidnap him, kill him, also licking that fucking spider and punching himself in the face and JUST. EVERYTHING). If he couldn’t use his own limited knowledge of reality, he would steal it from whoever he deemed worthy, interesting, moving, etc--and Koichi’s pure, unrelenting kindness and courage and willpower was so, so wonderful, beautiful, worthy, inspiring to Rohan, which is why he latched onto the other so intensely. I believe this weird, weird friendship was very unhealthy at the beginning because of how needy and demanding Rohan can be and how much of a pushover Koichi can be, but later on Koichi figures out how Rohan works and how to put him in his place. It’s simple--once you have Rohan’s respect, he’ll submit and own up to his behaviour if you call him out on it. Kind of like at the end of DiU, when Rohan made fun of Reimi and acted all tsundere during their goodbyes, until Koichi gave him That Look and Rohan confessed his true feelings. He just... he really admires, respects, trusts Koichi. He feels it in his guts it’s safe, right to do so. He relies a lot on his gut feelings, because they rarely fail him.

Koichi was probably Rohan’s first actual friend--not that he never had any meaningful relationships before, they just never stuck around long enough because Rohan never felt the need to invest himself too much into maintaining anything with anyone. He’s just very picky. In the rare event that he did try, it wasn’t reciprocated, or he just lost interest after finding one (1) flaw he didn’t like. He was just fine being on his own, doing his own thing, before hanging out with Koichi, stalking him observing his interactions with others and the world around him awoke inside of Rohan the wistful need to connect with someone on a deeper level. The need to experience genuine friendship, understanding, trust, giving something away without demanding something in return, looking past one’s flaws and accepting them, and allowing himself the vulnerability of it going both ways. All very, very foreign things, ones he’d convinced himself he was above experiencing, but a necessary part of being happy, fulfilled, real--something Rohan had missed out on in his life-long state of self-absorbed isolation--both forced and self-imposed.

THERE IS SO MUCH MORE thoughts I have on all of these subjects and I’ll probs elaborate at some point but I think this is enough for now lmfao bye. To end things, allow me to present one of my fave Rohan panels which kind of inspired all this

Rohan in love? Did you mean: yet another thing I’ll probs write about at some point

#here have this word vomit that might or might not make sense. idk. just here it is #hc : you may not like my integrity

4 notes · View notes

vikingsarememes · 4 years

Text

His True Wife

previous part ↭ part eleven ↭ next part

Main Characters: Ivar the boneless, Reader.

Characters Mentioned: Freydis, Ubbe Ragnarsson, Bjorn Ironside, Sigurd Snake in the eyes, Original Characters.

Summary: After two months everything changed, and secrets were revealed, now you’re left to make a decision and suffer the consequences.

Word Count: 1775

A/N: none

warnings: none

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

The past two months is when you realized, your heaven was a hell, you were now five months pregnant, but your husband, he was rather different, the realization of him being stuck in the farm drove him insane, he’d get angry for no reason, he’d wake up in the middle of the night cursing and screaming, nothing made him happy anymore, that smile of his was gone, his voice was changed, his sweet guy act was terminated, and you were left with an angry man, a man who had everything taken away from him, his pain was constant, and sometimes the herbs couldn’t help, you didn’t mind though, staying up with him, looking after him, what bothered you is how he’d treat you after, so cold and he’d push you away.

More plants started dying, it now worried you, it never happened before and with all of your attempts to rescue them, you’d end up at the same point, men with strange hats would visit Ivar some night, they’d speak in tongues you didn’t understand, but you kept Bjorn informed.

“Lady Y/N, prince Ivar is requesting your presence” Thoman declared, you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion “he caught Elizabeth” he whispered, you gulped and looked at him “I fear it’s time Thoman, I fear it’s my time” you whispered back, patted his shoulder then headed back to the inside of the hut, your husband stood with the stranger who wore a weird hat and your slave Elizabeth that was reporting your news to Bjorn, she was on the ground, blood running from her mouth, her body was bruised, you never treated your people like that! the man picked her by the hair, the woman didn’t scream or fight, she looked at you straight in the eyes, as if she knew her end was near as if she was telling you it’s alright.

You rushed to her but your husband glared at you, making you stop at your spot “Ivar! What’s the meaning of this?” you demanded, looking at him horrified, you’ve never seen him like this before, the anger was the least your fear, no, the man you are standing in front was no man any more, he was the monster everyone warned you of “you don’t know? Your little slave woman was a little birdie to Bjorn, she reported to him all of my moves, my men caught her the other day, didn’t you know about it love?” you shook your head, lying but hoped he’d buy it.

The man punched her in the stomach and she fell on the ground, curled into herself “I told you, Bjorn and I were having an affair! It has nothing to do with you!” she insisted, blood coming out of her mouth, she got a kick this time, making her wince in pain “Ivar! For the love of gods leave her alone!” you exclaimed, you knelt next to her protectively “you see, it’s either her or you… and you have my child Y/N, which makes you untouchable until you give birth at least” he said so calmly, you looked at him horrified.

“Did you not think I’ll know? You went behind my back, told my brothers about everything I’ve done? I’m trying to make you a queen! Queen of Kattegat! Why would you not understand?” even though he didn’t scream or yell, you knew how furious he was, you prayed the gods to send him back to his senses before he does anything he might regret later, even though you doubted if this man has any regrets at this point, you held your belly protectively and stood in front of him.

“I don’t wish to be your queen Ivar! All I ever wanted was to be your love! And the mother of your children, I don’t want bloodshed! If you continue seeking power, you will die! Do you wish to be dead? Your brothers will not tolerate your actions! The people won’t allow you to rule them! And if by a miracle you succeeded King Harald will come after you! Can’t you see the consequences of your actions? Where they’ll lead you… please Ivar, put an end to this, let’s go back to the way things were, my love, I beg you to stop, to live for me, for our child”

“Well, it’s a little too late for this now wife, the plan will go as intended, you are either with me or against me” he threatened “you lied! You never returned for me, you returned for your imaginary throne! You used me, and I’m the fool for believing you… I wish nothing to do with your quest to seek death, Ivar, I want you gone if that’s the path you’re choosing”

“Here’s the problem, you can’t kick me out, you see… your land it’s not yours anymore, it belongs to King Igor and his men, and by the morning, they’ll be here, but for now, enjoy your obligatory stay in this hut” the man took Elizabeth out of the hut, you knew she was dead, not yet, but in few minutes, while your husband, he smiled at you as the door was locked from the outside “Ivar!” you pleaded, “no! You were supposed to love me! I always thought no matter where I go, I’d have a place in your heart, but you betrayed me, wife! They turned you against me! I had a vision for us, so pure, we were happy! I loved you! I truly did” he spoke as if he was genuinely disappointed with your decision, he spoke as if he lost you forever.

“you never did Ivar, you only used me for your benefit, you only loved me when you wanted to love me, for you, I stood against the people, I fought for you, I begged for you to be forgiven, I lost so much, but you wanted me by your side as long as I play by your terms”

“I’m destined to live a life of misery and loneliness, you were wrong Y/N, it’s not Freydis who’s cursed by Loki, it’s me, whoever I love ends up turning on me”

“I never turned on you, I only wanted you, but I was never enough for you and I never will be”

You sighed and turned your back on him, laying on the bed, crying even, you are an idiot, you’ve been warned, thousands of times, by his brothers, by the people, even your land tried to tell you, but you were blinded by your own foolishness, Ivar’s not redeemable, yes, you still love him, but you wondered if that meant anything now, Bjorn, Ubbe, Sigurd, you’ve been angry at them for so long, but they never treated you wrong, you only disliked them for what they did to Ivar, and Freydis, you hated her but what if she only wanted to friend you so you’d save her? Now you’ll face the same fate as her, once your child’s born, Ivar will get rid of you, and he’ll hurt your child as well, you can’t let that happen.

“I wish to take a bath” you announced out of the sudden “a bath?” Ivar furrowed his eyebrows at you “yes a bath! I’m pregnant, in case you forgot, all of this stress is bad for the child, I wish to take a bath to calm down” Ivar nodded “it’s a good idea, perhaps a bath will send you back to your senses” you faked a smile, your slaves were allowed in to prepare the bath in the washroom, once they were done you were called “may I join you?” Ivar asked you shook your head no.

“I can’t stand looking at you right now, I wish to have space from you” you rushed to the room and closed the door in his face, taking a deep breath, Ivar slammed his hand on the door, he hated this, you knew he hated feeling ignored, but his feelings didn’t matter now, now that you saw the side that he’s been hiding for so long.

“My lady, do you want help getting undressed?” one of the slaves asked, you shook your head no “yes please” you walked to one of the walls, that was hidden behind boxes and fabrics, a visible door used to be there, you hid it, part of you knew you’d need an escape one day, the slaves helped you remove the things from it “please light up that candle I brought the other day,” you said, faking the role, “yes my lady” once it was open, you smuggled your slaves out, then yourself “go, take everyone away, you’re all free” you whispered and walked out quickly to the stable.

The stable was far away from the hut, and Ivar had only a few men currently, and they were busy guarding the windows and the doors, you ran, your arm around your belly protectively, you felt the cold breezes into your bones, it was freezing, and you didn’t have your cloak, you entered the stable and found a man, one of Ivar’s men, he mumbled something you didn’t understand but you were frightened, with every step that he took closer, you took one further until you reached the wall, he smirked so wickedly, his hand caressed your cheek.

You closed your eyes, accepting your fate, waiting for the man to do what he wanted to do, and waited some more, nothing happened, when you opened your eyes, Thoman looked at you “We don’t have time! Everyone was smuggled away by the sea, you must go now! I’ll distract them, go to Kattegat my lady, they’ll be expecting you” you hugged him and nodded, he helped you on your horse, you haven’t ridden a horse since a very long time, he handed you a dagger “take this, don’t be afraid of using it” he instructed.

“Thoman, why aren’t you on your horse? Come on let’s go!” you frowned, “my lady, I lived well and beyond my time, I hear my god calling for me, I’ll be alright, I promise” he smiled, putting his cloak on you “Thoman no… please join me, we can make it together” you shook your head, he took your hand and kissed it “my sweet heathen lady, I was honored to serve you, don’t mourn me, I lived well and I will die a warrior, go, survive! Don’t look back”

he slapped your horse and caused it to run, your eyes were filled with tears as you mourn your loss, you rode to Kattegat, this is all your fault for trusting Ivar in the first place.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Tags: (let me know if you want to be tagged for this story) @youbloodymadgenius @lol-haha-joke @i-am-a-teenage-dirtbaggg @gearhead66 @joebob15274 @supernaturalvikingwhore @xbiekesx @yg0angelittaa

Images source: stolen from google images.

#vikings #ivar vikings #vikings fanfiction #ivar #ivar the god #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar x reader #reader #bjorn ironside #ubbe ragnarsson #sigurd snake in the eye #his true wife fic #ragnarssons #prince igor #ivar's russian army #kattegat #fanfic

73 notes · View notes

winteriron-trash · 5 years

Text

Oh, I’ll Be Free (Just Like That Bluebird)

A/N: Sooooo... I lied. Here’s another Endgame-compliant fic. Sort of. Basically, this is a fic where Natasha and Tony cheat Death because they can. I’ll post this one to Ao3 when I feel like it, basically. This is my canon ending, don’t @ me Marvel. Warning for Endgame spoilers and all that.

Also, who gets the title? :DDD

Death wasn’t as painful as Tony expected it to be.

Then again, he didn’t know why it was supposed to be painful. After all, it was only crossing a bridge, really. Nothing too special about that.

Tony did expect the gauntlet to hurt. Bruce, even Thanos looked in pain when he snapped, and all Tony felt in that moment was the surge of power that left a metallic taste in his tongue and a warm tingling in his toes. He couldn’t really remember much of the actual moment, it was a haze that left his mind vibrating with static.

He remembered getting the stones, and did Thanos say something? What did Tony say? It didn’t really matter now, Tony figured. It was all the same. He did the deed.

At least, he really hoped he did.

The last thing Tony remember was looking into Pepper’s eyes. That was clear as day, and would probably haunt her as much as it haunted him. The look of utter helplessness reminded Tony of that time so many years ago, when Pepper had fallen into flames.

Funny, how memories like that seemed so small in the back of Tony’s head. He’d fought gods and titans, and he won.

Well, as much as a winner that any dead person could be.

Death was… nice. Tony wasn’t sure what he expected, really. Maybe a big flashbang and some angels, or demons of Tony was unlucky. Even after saving the universe, a part of Tony felt like he deserved to be on the other side with the hellfires and all that.

Instead, Tony found himself strolling down a glittering white sand beach, with a perfect sun rising over calm waters. It was the utopia Tony had imaged every now and then. Except when he imagined it, he was standing between Pepper and Morgan.

At least it was something, right?

The wandering was nice, at least. Even with everything that Tony left behind unfinished, his mind seemed to be as calm and lolling as the water he walked along the side of. Thoughts came and went as they please, but none really seemed to agonize or rag on Tony. Just quiet contemplations about life and death and how it all pertained to Tony.

Eventually, Tony happened across someone else, sitting with their elbows propped up on their knees as they stared out into the rising sun.

Tony would recognize that red hair anywhere. He walked up behind Natasha. If she knew he was there, she didn’t bother making it obvious, having not moved one inch from her position.

Oh, who the hell was Tony kidding. Of course, she knew he was there. It was Nat.

Tony sat down next to Natasha, mimicking her position. She glanced at him in acknowledgement but didn’t say anything. Tony didn’t blame her. What was there to say.

“I don’t know about you, but if this is supposed to be Heaven, I’m thoroughly disappointed by the lack of cheeseburgers,” Tony finally said with a sniff.

Natasha actually laughed at that. “That’s what you’re thinking about right now?”

Tony shrugged. “Well, what else do I have to think about? The whole ‘I’ll work it out when I’m dead’ logic seems a bit null here.”

Natasha glanced at him and shrugged. “Life. It’s what I’ve been thinking about.”

“Alright, fair.” Tony nodded. He curled his hand into a fist. “For what it’s worth, we did it. We got them back. All of them.” Tony could still feel the warmth of the hug he gave Peter burning away at his core.

“Good,” Natasha’s voice was tight. “Did we lose anyone else?”

“I don’t think so,” Tony said. He closed his eyes, thinking about Peter again. “I really hope not.” His eyes skirted around. “I mean, we’re the only ones in Nirvana right?”

Natasha’s smile seemed more hollow this time as she gave a single nod in agreement. “How’d you go?”

Tony sighed. “Well, in the typical fashion of Tony Stark egoism, I decided to wield the gauntlet myself. Turns out that snap can really do a number on you.” The harder he tried to remember it, the fainter it seemed to get.

“Do you remember your last words?” Natasha asked. She seemed… genuinely curious, as if it was something she wanted to know personally, rather than tactically. Rare, for her.

“Don’t really remember much of any of it, really,” Tony admitted. “Just remember getting the stones and…” Tony snapped for demonstration. “It’s a haze after that.”

“Well, knowing that Tony Stark egoism, it was probably something dramatic and over the top,” Natasha hummed with a playful smile that Tony didn’t think he’d ever get to see again. He couldn’t help but return it.

“And what about you, Romanoff? How’d you go? Because no offence but Legolas didn’t really feel in the sharing mood when he got back.” Tony leaned back, putting his elbows on the sand to recline a bit.

Natasha sighed. “When we found the stone… we had to make a trade. A soul for a soul. One of us had to die for it.” Natasha stared hard into the sun as if it’d make her wet eyes go away. “Clint fought me for it. But I’ve always been quicker than him. I won.”

Tony swallowed away his dry throat. “Gotta say, doesn’t feel like a glorious victory.”

Natasha’s smile was wry. “My last words were telling him to let go of him.” She let out a slow sigh. “I told him it was okay. And then I fell.” She shook her head. “I finally wiped the red out of my ledger.”

There was a beat of silence. “Wow.” Tony shook his head. “And you call me dramatic.”

The laughter that got out of Natasha was more relieving than it should’ve been.

“Was it quick?”

Natasha nodded. “I died on impact. Didn’t even feel a thing except for the last few seconds of wind through my hair.” She looked around. “And then I was here.”

“Yeah, I know how that feels,” Tony said.

Natasha laid down next to Tony. “There’s a beach house a bit further down. It’s got everything you could ever want.”

“Cheeseburgers?” Tony arched a hopeful eyebrow.

Natasha shook her head with a smile and stood up. “Sure, let’s go make some cheeseburgers, Stark.”

Tony pushed himself to his feet, following her without much thought. “Sounds lovely, Ms Rushman.”

The glare Natasha shot Tony over her shoulder had a smile peeking through it

Sure enough, the beach house was a picture of luxury. Tony and Natasha ended up sitting at a kitchen island, eating cheeseburgers that tasted perfect.

“I didn’t know you knew how to cook,” Natasha noted before taking another bite of the burger that Tony had in fact cooked.

“If I start telling people about my secret talents then they’ll expect me to do something other than sitting there and look pretty,” Tony said it with such seriousness that it took Natasha a moment to smile.

Natasha smacked him. “Like you’d do anything else, to begin with.”

Tony clasped a dramatic hand over his heart. “Rude. I’m wounded, you know. Absolutely rolling over in my grave over that one.”

Natasha threw a napkin at him.

Living at the beach house was something Tony got used to pretty quickly. Time was… hard to tell. Really hard to tell. The damned sun never moved, and Tony and Natasha were never the types for regular sleep schedules to begin with. Tony gave up on trying to figure days out after two or three periods of sleep. There was no point in counting. This was for eternity, right?

The house itself seemed to shift for their accommodations. The minute Tony moved in, there was a room for him and a workshop in the basement filled with everything he could possibly dream of. Natasha had a training/ballet room, and they shared the theatre area. Tony wondered sometimes if when new movies or shows came out, they’d show up too, or if death could only take from their memories of life.

Whatever it was, it was nice.

It reminded Tony of what life could’ve been like with the Avengers. That was, missing a few people. Give or take. And without the missions. And without the general chaos that Tony grew to love. And without his family.

If it weren’t for Natasha, Tony was pretty sure he would’ve screamed until his lungs gave out and tried to kill himself. As if he could escape death.

Which was admittedly, something Tony thought about a lot. Escaping death, Going home. Seeing Morgan again before she was all grown up and died the natural ways. God, Tony didn’t think he could wait that long to see Morgan again. It drove him insane.

He could tell Natasha was… restless too. She wouldn’t say it, but he could see it in the times he found he firing off countless rounds into targets, muscles so tight it made her hands shake a little.

Tony gave her the dignity of not mentioning that.

It wasn’t that… this whole set up wasn’t nice. It was. It really was. It was nice to fall asleep on the beach sometimes, to the sound of gentle waves. It was nice not having to deal with alien attacks. It was nice having everything he could want. It was… nice.

Okay, it was boring as all hell.

Not that fate or death or whoever the hell was in charge cared all too much, as they seemed just fine in ignoring Tony’s bitter rants he yelled at that damned sun that would never fucking move.

He hated it.

“This sucks, right?” Tony finally said to Natasha, as she sat curled up next to him in the sand reading a book.

“Hm?” Natasha glanced up.

“This.” Tony gestured to the sad world around them. “It sucks. It’s boring and missing everything that made life worth living.” A breeze played with his loose hair. “I’m sick of it.”

The sigh of relief from Natasha was fucking explosive. “Oh thank god. I thought I was the only one losing my mind here.”

Tony nodded and stood up. “Yeah, well that’s all I’ve felt the past… however the hell long we’ve been here. Come on.” He started hiking up to the beach house.

“Tony?” Natasha’s voice was wary and cautious. “Tony, what do you think you’re going to do?”

He glanced over his shoulder. “I built a flying suit. I solved time travel. I beat a titan and used all six infinity stones. Who’s about to stop me from beating Death?”

Natasha was quick to follow Tony. “Tony, are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Tony shrugged. “What do we have to lose? We’re already dead.”

There was a silent moment of Natasha contemplating it before she nodded. “Alright. Let’s see what you’ve got, Stark.”

Natasha was a surprisingly good help when it came to machinery. For what she lacked in technical knowledge, she made up for in common sense and practicality. She was constantly supplying Tony with the tools he asked for and just offering companionship and troubleshooting when he needed it.

Finding a starting place wasn’t exactly easy. Tony tried to remember the Cradle Helen Cho had built, and then the changes Ultron made. Even with that, it was about fixing what was already alive, not bringing something back from the dead.

Good thing Tony didn’t give up easily.

Anyone else would’ve told Tony to take breaks and go to sleep, but Natasha had the same amount of determination and pure stubbornness to keep working with him. Occasionally she disappeared to bring them both energy bars, but otherwise, they kept working.

Tony didn’t know how long until they finished, but he did know the utter satisfaction of holding the device in his hands.

“Well, we did it,” Tony said, holding up the device. “Either it works, or it doesn’t.”

“That’s how most things go,” Natasha noted, earning an elbow in the stomach.

He let out a slow sigh. “You ready, Romanoff?”

Natasha nodded. “What do we do?”

He pulled out two small disks from where they’d been charging in the device. He handed Natasha one. “Sort of like your Widow bites. Just hold it tight and press the button. You should feel a zap and hopefully, we don’t wake up naked on the streets of New York.”

Natasha smiled, holding the small thing between her fingers. “On three?”

Tony felt like he should’ve been more nervous than he was. Who the hell knew what would happen if this went south? Maybe they’d end up in hell. Or worse. Was there something worse than hell? Tony might find out.

Oh well. Whatever it was, Tony had handled hell before. They’d be fine.

“One…”

“Two…”

“Three.”

The last thing Tony saw before he literally tasted electricity was Natasha staring back at him, pressing down on her own little disc.

Then there was nothing.

The electricity was a burst of feeling, more sensation than Tony could ever remember feeling at once, making every atom in his body seem to vibrate with it. And then there was nothing. As if Tony existed in a void. He couldn’t find his voice, wasn’t even really sure if he still existed in his own body.

And then it was gone, and Tony could hear voices. And cars.

Tony opened his eyes that he didn’t even realize were closed.

New York. They were on the streets of New York.

Tony looked over to see Natasha with a look of awe on her face. She was wearing the same Quantum Realm outfit Tony last saw her in, while he was in his suit.

She looked over at him and gave Tony one of the brightest smiles he ever remembered seeing.

Tony cleared his throat. “Care for some coffee, Romanoff?”

“Sounds great.” Natasha nodded.

By the time they finally made it to the Avengers Compound, Tony and Natasha were chatting about something mindless and sipping iced coffees. Tony figured it was pretty poetic of them to show up late with Starbucks. Just as dramatic as they both seemed to be these days.

Tony punched in his code and they wandered in, looking for a sign of life. Voices lead them to the living room, where they found Clint and Rhodey arguing over a board game.

“You totally cheated! You hid that money, Barton,” Rhodey groaned with a face.

Clint shrugged triumphantly. “You can’t prove it.”

Tony looked over to Natasha and smiled. He missed these idiots.

“Personally, I think you’re just a sore loser, Platypus.”

Rhodey dropped his can of soda. The entire room of Avengers froze, and everyone turned to Tony and Natasha in the doorway like they were seeing ghosts.

Because they were.

“Tones?” Rhodey’s voice broke.

Tony took a sip of his macchiato. “Yeah, honey bear?”

It was shocking how fast Rhodey could move in those leg braces when he wanted to. He tackled Tony in a hug.

“You’re really here,” Rhodey mumbled.

Tony smiled into Rhodey’s shoulder. “What, did you think death had anything on me?”

“This is real?” Clint stood up. “No one’s bullshitting?”

Tony pulled away from a reluctant Rhodey. “Well, I hope so. Otherwise, I’ve pulled a prank so elaborate I wasn’t even in on it.”

Clint swallowed hard and looked Natasha dead in the eye. “Don’t you ever try and pull that again.”

Natasha’s smile was wry. “I told you it was okay. You’ll get the next one.”

“There won’t be a next one, Nat,” Clint promised, eyes hard. Natasha only pulled him into a hug. Tony felt like he was imposing on a personal moment just be being in the same space.

“Daddy?”

Tony’s heart twisted. Oh god. Morgan.

Tony barely had time to drop to a knee before Morgan’s tiny arms wrapped so tightly around him, it was almost impressive.

“I knew you’d come back,” Morgan pulled away to look up at Tony. “Everyone else came back, I knew you would too.”

Tony couldn’t find words to respond to that. He only kissed her face. “I love you three thousand, kid.”

“Three thousand?” Morgan’s eyes were wide.

“And so much more.” Tony scooped her up, holding him on his hip. He ran shaking fingers through her soft hair. God, this was what he needed. What made life worth it.

“Tony?”

Tony smiled so hard it hurt. “Miss Potts. You miss me?”

Pepper’s heels clicked as she walked over. She didn’t give Tony a hug, instead of a soft kiss to the forehead. “Should I even ask how?”

“Well, I know how much you hate job hunting, so I thought I could do you a favour,” Tony said, giving her a peck.

That annoyed smile made Tony’s chest feel so impossibly full. Pepper ran her fingers through Tony’s hair, resting their foreheads together.

“You should call Peter. He’d really like to hear the news,” Pepper said against Tony’s lips.

Tony hummed. “How badly do you think I can freak him out with a texted selfie?”

Pepper laughed. “Don’t do that to him. He really took it hard.”

That made Tony’s chest hurt. He hoped it didn’t hurt Peter the way Peter’s death had hurt him. The dumb kid always cared too much.

“Come on, break it up. I’m wiping the floor with Rhodes at Monopoly and I’m not about to lose because our friends came back from the dead.” Clint waved everyone back over to the board, and Tony happily took a seat next to Pepper with Morgan in his lap while she toyed with Tony’s calloused hands.

“Deal me in the next round?” Natasha asked, sitting cross-legged next to Clint. He grinned.

“Does this mean we go in the hall of fame next to every other resurrected person? Jesus, Lazarus?” Tony asked, kissing Morgan’s temple.

Bruce through Monopoly piece at him. “Don’t get cocky, Stark.”

Morgan picked up the piece where it knocked off of Tony and hurled it back at Bruce. She nailed him in the fucking forehead.

“Oh!” Tony’s eyebrows shot up. “TKO, Green Giant. You’re down, she got you.”

Bruce growled playfully at Morgan and she giggled with delight.

This was what Tony came back for. Death would come and hopefully the second time around, Tony would be ready.

But it wasn’t his time. Not yet. And it definitely wasn’t Natasha’s time either. They both finally got what they wanted in life, and not even fate was going to take that from them. Sometimes, fate was wrong.

It had to be.

Because why else would Tony get to miss out on this?

#winteriron-trash writes #endgame #endgame spoilers #avengers endgame spoilers #canon compliant #tony stark #natasha romanoff #pepperony #not winterion

156 notes · View notes

weirdochick56 · 5 years

Text

Lollipop- Bucky Barnes One Shot

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Sexual Themes. Explicit Language.

Disclaimers: I don’t own any MCU characters/plots mentioned.

Word Count: 3, 063 words

Summary: Bucky is madly in love with the reader and she with him; although neither are aware, the sexual tensions run high. So when she unintentionally does something to awaken the deep aching towards her within him once more, he can’t seem to hold back, but neither can she.

***

“Sup guys,” you run into the living area of the tower with a skip in your step.

Bucky’s head immediately perks up at your familiar chirp and an instantaneous smile spreads across his lips at the sight of you, dressed in a white blouse, denim shorts, and tan sandals. His grin widens when he sees a light bulge on your right cheek and a stick poking from inbetween your ruby lips, book in hand.

The angelic glow you radiated as you made your way to the couch across from him and Steve illuminated a small part in his dark mind and heart, lighting a match inside of the black abyss living inside of him. Giving him hope.

You were easily the most beautiful woman he’d ever met. The kind of beauty that rarely came around. You had the curves of a real woman. With the dips and valleys deserving of a goddess and the goddam most radiant smile to have ever blinded his tortured eyes.

But the thing about you...the thing that drove him completely nuts was that even though you were a fierce warrior and strong as hell, in other aspects of life you were as innocent and naive as they came. It was as if you had no idea how drop dead gorgeous you were. How much power you held over people. Over him.

Steve throws a small smile your way, briefly looking up from his phone and muttering a small ‘hello’ before dipping his head back down, engrossed in figuring out the small device’s mechanisms with deep intrigue.

You chuckle, the soft melodic sound reaching Bucky’s ears and he all but melts into a puddle right on the spot. “Still trying to figure out your phone Cap? Hasn’t it been like six months already old man?”

Steve snorts at your playful tone but doesn’t respond, too invested in the small box. Bucky observes silently as you fall onto the couch with a light thump, stretching your legs in front of your and settling back, looking over at him with a slight smile. “Morning Buck.”

And- oh God. He feels his heart speed up at the sweetness of your smile, the genuine happiness behind it. He’d never met anyone as effortlessly alluring as you.

He can’t look away from your beautiful eyes, the seemingly everlasting glimmer in them pulling him in like a moth to a flame. Slowly he stammers out a small “M-morning doll,” then turns his attention back to the random crime show playing on the huge flat-screen so that you wouldn’t be made aware of the flaming blush on his cheeks.

You smile to yourself a little then clear your throat, opening the book to the last page you left off and immediately become engrossed in the story.

Bucky intently admires you from the corner of his eye, his train of thought glued to your bare legs and the obscene images of the things he’d do to you with them flashing through his mind sinfully slow.

All he wanted was to reach out, trail his rough fingertips over the soft flesh, tug them to wrap around his waist as he pleasured you endlessly, made you feel exactly like you deserved. Or perhaps you’d be flexible enough you hoist them over his- no, he chastised himself mentally, shaking his head. He couldn’t condone the thoughts further.

You’d never want someone as broken as him. He knew you were far too good for the likes of him...

He flexes his metal arm uncomfortably, and sighing to himself, he watches with a slightly broken smile as you continue reading, twirling the lollipop in your mouth.

The book was clearly interesting as your brow was furrowed with concentration and even as a luscious strand of hair slipped out of the messy bun you’d placed it in, your big y/e/c eyes never tore away from the pages and your slender fingers never made a move to tuck the strand behind your ear like you usually would.

Subconsciously, you begin to fiddle with the lollipop stick and slowly tug it out of our mouth.

Bucky watched, fascinated, as the sweet snack left your plump mouth with a loud pop.

On any other woman, the action wouldn’t have been sexual at all, but you were the type of woman, so graceful yet sensual that you gave off that air to you.

...or maybe Bucky had been aching for you so long that anything you did that resembled something even remotely sexual drove him utterly insane with sexual frustration.

His throat grew tighter as you lick your lips promptly, your tongue trailing over your ruby bottom lip torturously slow and wiping away the excess sugar.

He knew you weren’t doing it to deliberately arouse him, but that was what made it so fucking hot.

Images, more vulgar than he’d be willing to admit out loud, played out before his very eyes and his body grew flushed. The mere thought of your dainty hands reaching out to tug his pants down, working slowly and driving him insane as you sunk into your knees and-

Bucky swallowed thickly, his breathing speeding up as you shift and lift your legs, crossing them and rubbing them together.

Oh, the things he wanted to do to you.

And just when he’s begun convincing himself again that thinking of you that way wasn’t a smart idea, your tongue pokes out from in between your moist lips and you swirl it around the lollipop sensually.

Bucky groans under his breath, licking his own lips. Now he wasn’t entirely convinced you weren’t doing it deliberately. Who the fuck eats a lollipop like that?!

You suddenly pause your licking, simply pressing the sweet against your lips and keeping it there as you tear through a tense moment in the story.

Bucky watched, breath lodged in his throat, as you keep your mouth closed, lollipop still pressed tenderly against your lush lips before your stiffened body visibly relaxes and you part your lips, poking your tongue out again and slowly dragging the red lollipop back into your wet mouth.

He could envision something other than that lollipop entering that pretty little mouth of yours and the mere thought had him sweating, large beads of perspiration rolling down the side of his face.

He shifts uncomfortably on the couch, attempting to find a comfortable position but coming up empty.

He clenches his fists in restraint as you swirled the lollipop in your mouth, the wet sounds of the candy moving around in your mouth sending a wave of bliss down his spine. He was trying really, really hard not to simply claim you that couch with Steve in the room.

He could ask you to stop before his desire became noticeable, or he could continue watching you read and suck on that lollipop like your life depended on it all the while being tortured slowly.

He wanted to move, but it would seem he was glued to the couch, the crime show long forgotten as he studied you closely. The more he did, the more you seemed to glow. ...the sexier you got.

There was something about the way you moved, flipped the pages with a sly flick of your wrist, and when you bit your lip in concentration...that always got him. He found himself wondering what flavor the lucky lollipop was and how it would make your mouth taste. Mmm, probably cherry, he thought ecstatically.

But as much as he ached to touch that beautiful soft skin of yours, to have a withering moaning mess under him, he knew he couldn’t. Not only would it put a strain on your friendship- which was the last thing he wanted, but you’d probably reject him.

He scoffed disgustingly at himself under his breath. Why would someone as stunning and utterly perfect as you ever go for someone as troubled as him?

He couldn’t take it anymore -between the unreleased sexual tension building up inside of him and the harsh reality of his unrequited love, he couldn’t bear to be in your irresistible presence for far longer- and abruptly stood up, wiping the sweat off his brow.

He cringes when the remote control unknowingly slips off his lap and onto the floor, creating a large thud when it made impact with the ground and causing both you and Steve to jump a bit in the air.

Your head snaps from your book in his direction and his grimace deepens. He clears his throat with an inevitable blush, rubbing his neck lightly. A small, slightly sheepish smile spreads over his face, but you can tell he’s avoiding your eyes.

“Sorry, doll,” he mumbles too quietly, shuffling out of the living area.

You frown at his strange behavior, making eye contact with Steve, who’d been spectating the whole exchange, from across the room.

He smirks lightly to himself and when you raise a questioning brow, he simply shakes his head then shrugs innocently, turning his gaze back to the screen.

You were a bit worried about Bucky’s strange behavior, so you decide to check up on him.

On your way to his room, your mind reels. Had you done something wrong to upset him? Perhaps he disliked your presence in general?

The thought made you swallow thickly, an unpleasant chill rolling up your spine as you discard of the stick still in your mouth.

You knock on his door, awaiting his response with your nerves on edge. You hear some shuffling before his gruff voice breaks through the silence. “Jesus.”

You paint a smile on your smile as you hear his approaching footsteps. “Steve, I swear to God if this isn’t important I’ll-” the door swings open and as soon as he sees you, he abruptly pauses his grumpy grumbling, his face turning into one of shock.

“Y/n...” he breathes softly, his grey eyes immediately flickering over to your face, trailing over every feature with intensity. Almost like he wanted to photograph it with his mind.

You blush lightly at his scrutinizing gaze, wringing your hands nervously. “I just-” you clear your throat. “I was wondering if you were okay.”

He stands near the doorway of his room, muscular arms crossed over his firm chest. Your eyes wander to his veiny flesh arm and glinting metal one and something inside you shifts. He was so ridiculously handsome.

Something about his laid-back look, t-shirt, sweats and disheveled dark brown hair was undeniably attractive. But it was more than that. Bucky had the most beautiful and brave heart you’d ever seen on anyone. And his eyes, although breathtakingly beautiful and unreal, held certain torture in them. But also something you can only describe as hope. Bucky had hope. Even after all the brainwashing HYDRA put him through. The hell he’d been put through. And you loved that about him.

In fact, you loved everything about him.

He releases a deep, sexy chuckle and smirks a little. “I’m fine, doll.” He steps aside, opening his room further. “Wanna come in?”

Your lips part and your breath hitches in your throat as you stare up at him, slightly flabbergasted by the invitation -most likely innocent, mind you- for a few moments. You gulp but smile faintly, nodding. You didn’t exactly trust your voice not to break out of pure exhilaration right now.

He smiles and motions for you to follow him. Your eyes catch wind of his toned back and you can’t help but eyes the flexing muscles straining underneath the thin material of his t-shirt.

Your mouth feels dry and you lick your lips lightly, stepping onto his room warily. A small smile immediately appears on your face at the fact that his room, painted shades of grey and black with a comforter, pillowcases, and furniture to match was so...Bucky.

You’d never been in here, but if you were put to guess, you’d say this one belonged to him.

He eyes you from the bed, a slight grin on his face. “A penny for your thoughts?”

You turn to him, your smile falling. “O-oh it’s nothing, not important.”You wave him off.

There was something off about him. His earlier demeanor was gone, dispersing with the air around you.

All of a sudden he gets off his bed with a loud creak from the springs, stalking closer to you. Like a predator would a prey, you couldn’t help but note. His moves were sharp and deliberate.

You immediately stiffen up, crossing your arms over your chest and shifting nervously as he neared you. You couldn’t look away from his magnetic eyes and the beauty of them, glued on your own, all but knocked the air from your lungs.

He licks his lips slightly, coming to stop mere inches from you. Your chests slightly brush against eachother as you crane your neck a bit to look up at him.

“A-are you okay?” that’s all you can mutter, glued to your spot and unable to step away from him. Especially with his scent, something minty and masculine, wafting softly into your nostrils and dulling your common sense. He was so close you could practically count ever crevice and dip on his inviting, soft pink lips.

You don’t look away from each other's heated gazes for too long, both of your eyes returning to each other's unavoidably.

The air between you two stirred drastically as you subconsciously lean into his radiating warmth, the space between you crackling with electricity, the tension in the air palpable.

You wet your lips, eyes unsure of where to focus as he reaches out and grips your arm with the softest of touches. Your arm immediately gains goosebumps that spread to the rest of your body like an untamable wildfire.

“Buck,” you breathe, heart beating in your chest rapidly.

He groans softly, needy eyes hungrily trailing over your lips. “Y/n...fuck,” he releases dejectedly.

You gulp, looking up at him timidly through your lashes. “Buck I can’t- what is this?” you end up inquiring emptily as he leans into you even more, your chests now firmly pressed against each other.

His metal hand blindly reaches out and his cold smooth fingers trail over your own fingertips with reluctance. A feather-like touch, almost as if he was scared to hurt you with it. He looks at you for any reaction but all you do is stare right back into his glimmering eyes, in a trance-like state. He takes that as something positive and presses his hands more prominently into your hand, you respond, interlacing your fingers with his metal ones a bit.

His pupils are full-blown dilated and you tremble in delight. “You’re so fucking beautiful doll,” he breathes against your face warmly, pressing his forehead to yours as his flesh thumb caresses your arm.

Meanwhile, his metal hand continues a slow trajectory from your hand up the length of your arm, prompting a noticeable shiver from you at the sensation of the cold metal against your flushed, heated skin.

“Is this okay?” he rasps warmly, his cinnamon-scented breath fanning your face teasingly.

You brush your nose against his, ghosting your lips over his and nodded wordlessly, not a sound being able to leave your lips. Your heart hammered briskly against your ribcage and you feel faint thanks to that, your stolen breath and his intoxicating warmth and scent.

“Buck,” you pronounce each syllable with as much sharpness as you can, your lips brushing pleasurably over his soft parted ones as you speak, warm breaths interchanged.

You look him evenly in the eye, your stomach churning painfully with nervousness. But without hesitation, you mumble, “kiss me.”

You can see the effect your words have on him. His chest expands but he doesn’t exhale and his stormy grey eyes are almost completely gone, replaced by wide-blown pupils. His pink lips part, but not a breath escapes them as he looks into your eyes almost pleadingly.

Finally, he nods slowly, his hands coming up and cradling your face between them with the lightest of touches. You exhale shakily, leaning your face into his touch.

He tilts your head so you’re looking into his eyes and your lips are just a few centimeters apart. Then your eyes flutter closed and he finally presses his lips to yours.

They’re just a soft as you imagined and unintentionally, you sigh with relief into his mouth. His lips part and he gently takes your bottom lip in, swiping his warm tongue along it experimentally.

You shiver and your hands fly up to take his jaw inbetween your hands as you tug him closer to you, craving his body warmth more than you had anything else.

Your lips move expertly against each other. Soft and slow at first. The speed of it, the obvious care Bucky had for you, made your heart flutter endlessly. Almost like it wanted to fly out of your chest. Your thumbs caressed the sharp edges of his jaw and he shivers, sliding a hand to rest at the base of your skull and playing with your baby hairs.

Suddenly, Bucky groans into your mouth then steps away from you only a bit. His forehead rests against yours lightly, his hand still on your neck and face.

“Doll,” he rasps. The tone sends small chills down your spine. “We can’t- I can’t do this.”

Your heart drops and you look up at him with heartbroken shock. “W-what? Why?”

He thumbs your cheek one again with a soft smile. “Because if I continue kissing you then I won’t be able to stop.”

Your mouth goes dry and you swallow thickly, looking him firmly in the eye. “Then don’t stop.” Your voice is barely a whisper. “I don’t want you to fucking stop Bucky.”

His expression darkens and he growls lightly. “Doll don’t say something you don’t mean.”

You don’t budge, your heart beating even faster than before. “I’m not.”

You craved the feeling of his soft lips pressed against yours, the flames on your skin, your soaring soul, his intoxicating taste of cinnamon and a soft edge of alcohol. You wanted to feel alive.

He doesn’t hesitate, dipping his head down and passionately enveloping you in his strong arms.

Neither you or him could deny the sexual tension running thickly through your veins. Much less the love.

You wanted to stay like this forever, in Bucky’s safe arms.

***

That was a bit more graphic than I’m used to but...it’s a start right?

Anywho, leave me feedback please my loves!! (I’d really appreciate the constructiveness.)

Messages, asks, replies, I see them all!!

A special Thanks To:

@sherlockedtash88

@jessikared97

@lilypalmer1987

@mogaruke

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fanfic

174 notes · View notes

hellzyeahthewebwieldingavenger · 5 years

Text

Spider-Man: Life Story #4 Thoughts Part 2: Broken Ben, bits and bobs

Let’s move back to Ben Reilly.

Nitpick: why is he wearing glasses?

His spider powers mitigate the need for glasses.

Peter doesn’t wear glasses. Is staring at photos in a dark room really going to diminish your super enhanced eyesight so much more than lab work, reading business documents and getting punched in the face by bad guys?

A more serious problem though is Ben’s characterization.

Putting aside the photographer thing Ben goes absolutely nuts when he finds out he’s the real Peter Parker. Peter meanwhile is more calm.

The context here is seriously different to the 1990s Clone Saga but does that add up with the differences in how it plays out?

In the 1990s Clone Saga, Peter had recently lost Aunt May, recently recovered from a mental breakdown but ever since had been put under extreme pressures and mental anguish, the reveal he was a fake also hit him hard because it meant potential genetic ailments for his unborn child and the possibility his wife would reject him as a freak. He flipped out...hard.

Here, the clones haven’t been established to regard themselves as lesser than the real people. Peter initially regards them as such yes, thus you’d imagine that would extend to Ben. But Gwen more or less seems to sort of see herself as real even if she isn’t Gwen Stacy.

Peter also lacks the mental fragility or issues his 1990s counterpart had.

Ben in the 1990s Clone Saga though was comparatively mentally healthier and he also flipped out but less so than Peter. When he first realizes he was a clone back in the 1970s though Ben nearly contemplated suicide.

So within the context of these changes I don’t think Ben and Peter’s change in reactions is out of character.

However it doesn’t really reflect well on Ben as a character that the scene where he talks the most so far and is defined the most as a character has him flying out of control, trying to beat Doc Ock to death and irrationally blaming him for stealing his life when Otto had nothing to do with it.

It also doesn’t help that within the span of four pages he goes from out of control irrational violence to saying ‘oh no how could I commit murder I’m Peter Parker’ (whilst being held back from continuing to beat Otto) to then diving out of a broken window (without web-shooters) screaming Otto is a murderer.

It doesn’t leave you with a positive impression of the character at all, it makes him look unstable and not a great choice to adopt the mantle of Spider-Man.

I also wondered briefly if Peter catching Ben by the foot after he fell/committed suicide maybe (?) had killed him like it killed Gwen. I guess when you have spider powers physics don’t apply to you.

Oh one more thing related to Ben Reilly, and it’s about the fact that he’s revealed as the real Peter Parker.

It’s just a teeny tiny thing you know, really more of a nitpick hardly worth menti- WHY WOULD ANYONE BELIEVE THAT!

Look at the logistics of this for a moment.

Warren switched out Gwen for Helen, probably before her wedding. As the ‘father of the bride’ and her boss he’d have had private access to her so a switch makes sense.

When the fuck could he have possibly done this with Peter?

Nowhere in this comic was anyone implied to be able to bypass the spider sense at all. So how the Hell was an old man like Warren supposed to switch Peter and his clone without Peter or Ben realizing; back when Peter was in the prime of his powers btw?

Wouldn’t there be gaps in their memories????

I know, I know, I know Warren never did do this. But Ben and Otto BELIEVE he did.

Why?

Is Ben not simply coming off as insane in this story but supposed to actually be nuts because you could figure out that this is obviously not true with ease. In the canon Clone Sagas it made sense because Peter and Ben both remembered being knocked out then woke up repeating one another’s dialogue.

What’s worse is that Ben flips out over the word of Doctor Octopus!

In the Clone Saga Peter and Ben perform the tests themselves repeatedly and that’s how they come to the conclusion Peter is the clone.

Here Ben Reilly goes nuts because the elderly delusional nut job super villain claims he just read some data that confirms Ben as the Real McCoy.

Why would you believe that immediately???????????????????????

Okay sure, later on Peter and Ben do double check things and confirm the results but nevertheless Ben flips out big time on the trustworthy word of Doc Ock!

Now let’s talk now about Ben’s wife Helen Parker and/or Reil-

...Wait a minute...

*searches every page of LF #4*

...She...she’s not....she’s not in the issue...she’s not even mentioned!

What in the actual fuck Zdarsky!

You introduce the clone of Gwen Stacy in a remix of the 1970s Clone Saga, then when you come to remix the 1990s Clone Saga where she was prominently featured...you ignore her?

Worse you don’t even mention her!?

Peter doesn’t even ask after her, his ex-wife????????

She gets mentioned on the recap page but we know nothing of where she is.

Last we checked she was posing as Ben’s wife and/or relative. What the Hell happened you can’t ignore that, she’s conspicuous via her absence!

Sigh...let’s talk about the Osborns.

They were handled better. Arguably they were the best/least shitty aspects of this comic (sans the standard stratospheric artwork).

Harry dies saving Peter, remixing Spec #200. Okay that’s not too bad even though the context is totally different.

Then Norman dies of a heart attack after trying to spite Peter one last time and after learning Harry is dead.

Now one nice touch in the issue is a bait and switch where you think Peter is having Ben followed but really it’s Norman Osborn. Didn’t see that coming so well done there.

Norman is also mostly in character because he’s spiteful and hateful till the end, but displays a genuine albeit twisted love for his son.

His role in trying to trick Peter into thinking he’s the clone is rather at odds with canon though and far less dramatic. In canon Norman always planned to trick Peter this way but put the plan in motion in response to Harry’s death as revenge. Here it’s just a pathetic last ditch attempt to spite Peter.

Now granted maybe that was the point. For the plan to totally backfire on Norman and showcase him as the sad pathetic old man he is. If that’s so then okay, well done I guess as a remixing of canon, along with the fact that you kill off Norman in the era he actually came back to life in canon.

His characterization gets wonky in some places though.

He says ‘He drove me to it. He’s always in my head.’

It’s not clear who Norman is talking about. The long shot is Peter which would make sense. It might be the Goblin because some interpretations paint the Goblin as another personality, but that’s against canon and this series never implied that. the dialogue though seems to more directly imply he means Harry which...huh? Doesn’t add up at all that one.

We also have a lingering problem from issue #2, re-emphasised in this issue.

Apparently Norman served out his sentence (really, he didn’t get life for his crimes, okay) and is sour Peter in issue #2 screwed up his escape plan.

Re-read my thoughts on issue #2 for more details on why this is a problem but in a nutshell:

a) If Norman has access to his money, resources and knowledge of Peter’s identity then he had multiple ways to plan an escape. In the very well known Marvel Knights: Spider-Man Norman kidnaps May and blackmails Peter into freeing him from prison, a plan he mapped out very soon after discovering Peter’s identity. There is no reason given in LF why he wouldn’t do something like this

b) His escape plan in issue #2 made absolutely no fucking sense whatsoever.

A final potential problem with Norman in this issue is that if everyone knows who he is and he’s desperate to get back at Peter somehow, even maybe letting Doc Ock kill them...why doesn’t he just reveal his identity to the public!

In canon Norman kept that secret because HE wanted to kill Spidey alone and/or because exposing Spidey meant exposing himself too.

In this context though he’s already exposed and he isn’t going to be destroying Spidey directly at all. So why not just reveal his identity to the world?

P.S. According to Norman Harry owns stock in Parker Industries but didn’t he give all his money to MJ?

#Spider-Man: Life Story #chip zdarsky #mark bagley #Spider-Man #Peter Parker #Ben Reilly #Scarlet Spider #Gwen Stacy #Norman Osborn #Harry Osborn #Green Goblin

12 notes · View notes

marvelmando · 6 years

Text

let there be light - pt. 2

summary: y/n has been living with tony stark since she was three, after a lab accident killed her parents, and left her with the ability to create and manipulate light. since then, she battles as an avenger, and eventually, as a babysitter for a certain new hero. she doesn’t mind it though, because she’s always wanted to live a normal teenage life… and possibly also because peter’s cute.

contains: swearing, angst, fluff

notes: what the actual fuck the last chapter literally blew up i don’t think i can say thank you enough????? i appreciate every single message, reply, note, and reblog, and im sorry if i don’t respond, or upload frequently. i just had major back surgery and im now back at school so im literally drowning in make-up work. but ill try my very very best!!! also: please send me an ask if you’d like to be in my taglist! if you only reply i can’t promise i will see it :) but thank you all sososososo much!!

part 1

For the following two months, Tony you prepare to go undercover at Midtown School of Science and Technology as yourself, Y/N Stark.

Now, you weren’t really the biological child of Tony’s, but his adoptive daughter. For reasons you didn’t know, you’d been sent to live with Tony when you were three, after an accident had killed your parents. Or, at least, you pretended not to know. The real reasons were strictly confidential, and only a handful of people knew besides Tony, Nick Fury, Phil Coulson, and the highest ranks in government.

Keeping secrets was second nature to you by now, which made you ideal for an undercover mission. Also, Natasha had taught you a few things after your heroic debut in the Battle of New York, wherein after you became a full-fledged Avenger despite only being 11 years old.

The world had not yet known that Tony Stark had a daughter, whether biological or not, which made you unsure. However, Tony made the point that you were going to grow up into an adult one day, and he hoped that you would keep his surname. Of course, as a slightly anxiety-ridden girl, you worried that would cause a lot of unwanted attention towards you. But Tony was right. Besides, what other surname could you use?

Now, you weren’t really going undercover at Midtown. You didn’t have a fake name or a fake backstory, like you usually would. You were just... you. But you were going undercover to Peter, as Artemis. You would watch over him, guide him as a fellow superhero by night, and a friendly girl by day.

Luckily, and not surprisingly, Tony had already thought ahead.

Now that he didn’t have much to worry about Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, he put most of his effort into this spider kid. Sometimes you wouldn’t see Tony for days, as he holed himself away in his workshop, only briefly scampering to the kitchen for water and food.

You were concerned about Tony. You knew about his nightmares, and vaguely about something called Thanos, but every time you tried to confront him, Tony would shut you down.

“Hey, Kiddo, ready for your first day of school?” A brown paper bag plopped on the counter in front of you.

Looking up, you saw Tony across from you, sporting a tight smile. The corner of your lips twitched as you snatched the bag. “Ready as ever.”

Tony drove you to school in his Audi R8, obviously the most conservative car he owned. The drive was long and silent, as you mulled over everything that could possibly go wrong.

As if he could hear your thoughts, Tony awkwardly reached over the console and patted your hand, which was rested on your knee. “You’re gonna do fine, Light-bulb. After all, you are a Stark.”

This made you smile genuinely, as you thanked him with your eyes. For the past twelve years you’ve lived with Tony, as much as he was caring, you never felt like you belonged there. As much as you had the last name, you weren’t sure that you could be a Stark.

Pulling into the school, you could see heads turning as you passed, through the tinted windows. You instinctively shrunk in your seat, feeling as if bugs were crawling over your skin.

The car in front of you, a silver convertible, honked its horn twice, as a lanky figure dodged it as he crossed the street. Almost immediately, you recognized the boy as Peter. He hurried up the stairs of the school, and you had Tony stop the car.

You stumbled out of the car, giving Tony a quick goodbye. You barely noticed the whispers and the glances as you hurried your pace to catch up with the boy.

“Peter!” You whisper-yelled, although you weren’t sure why. It’s not like you were trying to keep your interactions a secret.

After months of doing research on his powers, you knew he had heightened senses. However, if he heard you, he didn’t act like it. You figured he hadn’t, due to the earbuds in his ears, and the loud chattering of the students.

You pushed your way through the crowd, watching as Peter slipped in the front doors. You kept him in your sight, weaving through the conglomerates of social groups clogging up the hallways.

At one point, something had tugged on your hair, hard. Apparently, one of the students had a drone of some sort, and was struggling to control the thing. It got caught in your hair as you passed, and the boy holding the control squeaked as the drone continued to malfunction. Trying not to break the device, you took hold of it.

You untangled your strands from the metal, and handed it back to the kid. He was younger than you, skinny, with dark skin and glasses too large for his face. He took his drone with shaky hands, and pushed his glasses back up his nose. He stuttered out an apology, and you gave him a warm smile.

“Try fixing the circuit board, one of the motor hinges is loose.” You said as you walked away from him. The kid’s jaw dropped. You laughed to yourself.

Once again looking for a sign of the curly-haired boy, you made your way down the hall. You noticed a group of cheerleaders, who had suddenly taken an interest in you. They whispered among themselves, looking you up and down as you passed. You gripped the strap of your backpack tighter.

You almost hadn’t seen it, but there Peter was, at a locker behind the cheerleaders.

“Peter!” You sighed in relief, and hurried towards him. “Thank god I found you, I almost—”

You stopped shortly when you noticed the larger boy across from Peter, mouth open mid-sentence, and holding a small Lego figure. “Is that Emperor Palpatine?”

Both boys’ eyes widened.

“Um, hey, Y/N, ri—right? What—uh, what are you doing here?” Peter laughed awkwardly, folding his arms. “And—you know who Emperor Palpatine is?”

You shrugged, clutching your backpack. “I’ve got a lot of time on my hands. But um, yeah, I kind of go here now?”

The chubby boy looked back and forth between you and Peter, obviously confused.

“Oh! Um, Y/N this is Ned, my best friend. Ned, this is Y/N—”

“Hi,” You held your hand out so he could shake it. He seemed hesitant, still perplexed at how you and Peter knew each other. “I, um, work for Tony Stark. That’s how we know each other.”

“Right!” Peter cried, realizing now what your angle was. “The internship.”

Ned seemed satisfied at this answer, the shy expression from earlier gone and replaced with a bright grin. “Well, you like Star Wars! Right? Because I got this sick Death Star Lego set, and it has 3,803 pieces!”

“That’s insane!”

“Wow, that sounds rad.” You chuckled, and you heard the group of cheerleaders snicker, as one of them didn’t even attempt to hide their distaste as the said, “so lame”. You looked down at your feet, hiding your face as you tried to contain your embarrassment.

“I know right! So I was wondering if you wanted to build it tonight?” The three of you began to walk down the halls, and you walked beside Peter, Ned on his other side. “You can come too, Y/N!”

Before you could respond, Peter stepped in. “No, I can’t tonight, I’ve got the Stark—”

“Stark internship. Always about that internship.” Peter scratched his neck. “What about you, then, Y/N, or do you have the internship too?”

“No, um, I’m free tonight.” You smiled across at Ned. You were looking forward to go home so you could read or work of Spider-Man’s AI system, but you reminded yourself that this was good—normal. Hanging out with other teens after school. Right?

Peter shot you a look but you avoided his gaze.

The two friends began to discuss jobs, but you watched your feet, clutching your class schedule from your pocket.

While Ned talked on about the Death Star, Peter’s focus drifted. His footsteps faltered, and his eyes pinched in the corners so it looked like they were smiling. Curious as to what caught Peter’s attention, you followed his gaze.

Whoever this girl was, she was beautiful. Her skin was tan and smooth, and even though she was only in a sweater and a skirt, she still managed to look like a model. Her lips were full and her eyes were warm, and you couldn't help but shiver. You looked down at yourself, noting the dull skin color and frizzy hair, paired with jeans and your old band t-shirt, and wondered if anyone would ever look at you like that.

Glancing at your schedule with a heavy heart and an aching feeling behind your nose, you realized that class started in just five minutes and you still had no idea where you were going.

“Hey, um, do either of you have AP Physics with Mrs. Warren?” You asked.

Ned nodded. “Yeah, Peter does. He could take you there.”

Peter smiled to himself, although it appeared as though he wasn’t even listening to you. “Yeah, that’d be great.”

At that moment, a sharp ringing noise sounded. You cringed at the horrible sound. “That’s the warning bell.” Ned told you.

“I’m gonna be late, shit.” You glanced up at Peter. You grabbed his clothed arm gently, drawing him out of his trance. Looking down at you, you took in the warmth of his dark eyes. “You ready?”

He nodded, head turning to catch the pretty, dark-skinned girl disappear behind a wall of lockers.

As it turned out, you shared all of your classes with Peter Parker. You were grateful to have someone you knew in all of your classes, but you were annoyed at the great probability that Tony had meddled in your scheduling. You had to remind yourself, however, that you were not just here for the hell of it, but you were actually supposed to be “babysitting” the new hero.

But as much as you tried to tell yourself that this was only a mission, you couldn’t help but feel like this was going to turn into something much more.

At the moment, Peter sat next to you with his head buried in the screen of his laptop, as he diligently watched a video of Spider-Man stopping a car from smashing into the side of a bus. You rolled your eyes at his lack of subtly. How did everyone not know his secret by now?

“Okay, so how do we calculate linear acceleration between points A and B?” The teacher pointed to the board, and then to a kid that sat in the row in front of you. “Flash.”

“It’s the product of sine of the angle and gravity divided by mass.” He answered confidently. You snickered, knowing he got it wrong.

“Nope.” Mrs. Warren said. “Peter. You still with us?”

Peter’s head snapped up, only taking a second to look at the board before answering. “Uh, yeah, yeah.” He shut his laptop carefully. “Uh... Mass cancels out, so it’s just gravity times sine.”

Looking at him from the corner of your eye, you were impressed at how easily Peter managed to get everything correct, despite the distractions.

The teacher also seemed impressed, but not surprised. “Right. See, Flash, being the fastest isn’t always the best if you are wrong.”

As the class snickered, Flash turned in his seat to Peter and whispered, “You’re dead.”

You narrowed your eyes at the boy. You wanted to reach over and smack him upside the head, but you promised to behave. For some reason, Peter had been glancing back at the clock hanging up on the wall every couple of minutes.

The next period, Peter had used the opportunity to mix some of his web fluid right in the middle of class. You were close to screaming at that point. This kid was definitely going to get caught. You made sure to warn him with a harsh whisper whenever the chemistry teacher neared.

After that was lunch. You sat across Ned and Peter, and glanced down the nearly empty table, save for the girl immersed in a book a couple of seats down. Digging into your school-bought lunch, you noticed Peter’s glazed over eyes as his head rested on his propped up arm.

You turned, realizing he was staring at the same pretty girl from earlier, who stood on a ladder, hanging up a paper sign that had “Homecoming Is Almost Here! Are You Ready” in painted cursive. You turned back around, stabbing your steamed broccoli angrily with your fork.

You weren’t sure why exactly you were mad, you barely knew Peter. Perhaps it was the adoring and endearing look in Peter’s expression that made your stomach twist itself into knots.

“Did Liz get a new top?” Peter said absentmindedly. You glanced up, but he was still transfixed on the girl, Liz. Even her name was beautiful.

No. We’ve seen that before, but never with that skirt.” Ned answered.

“We should probably stop staring before it gets creepy.” Peter mentioned, but it seemed like he wasn’t planning on stopping any time soon.

“Too late.” The girl a couple of seats piped up, startling you. You faintly noticed a purple section in her ponytail. “You guys are losers.” She turned back to her novel.

“And absolutely ludicrous.” You quipped, and met eyes with the girl, who gave you a small, amused smirk in return.

“Well, then why do you sit with us?” Ned pointed out.

“Because I don’t have any friends.” The girl responded, effectively ending the conversation.

Somehow, Tony managed to get you into the Academic Decathlon team with little dispute, which is where you went next.

You sat on the sidelines, observing the team, as Liz quizzed them. The members were funny and eccentric, and you liked most of them, except for Flash, who was on the team somehow.

You watched Peter as he talked to the team’s sponsor, Mr. Harrington. “Peter, it’s Nationals. Is there no way you can take one weekend off?”

“I can’t go to Washington because if Mr. Stark needs me, I have to make sure I’m here.” Peter said, clearly exasperated. You watched him intently, wanting to say something about how Tony would most likely not call on him for another mission again anytime soon, but feared his response in case he grew suspicious.

“You’ve never even been in the same room as Tony Stark.” Flash shouted.

“Wait, what’s happening?” One girl asked.

“Peter’s not going to Washington.” Said another girl, lying on the floor on her stomach next to them.

Cries of protest came from Peter’s teammates, as one kid, who you knew was Abraham, dinged the bell to ask, “Why not?”

“Really?” Liz asked, genuinely concerned but too sweetly for your liking. “Right before Nationals?”

“He already quit marching band and robotics club.” The girl from lunch, Michelle, Peter told you, mentioned. As heads turned to look curiously at her, she simply shrugged. “I’m not obsessed with him; I’m just very observant.”

“Flash, you’re in for Peter.” Liz announced.

“Oof, I don’t know.” Flash said. “I gotta check my calendar first. I got a hot date with Artemis coming up.”

Before you could stop yourself, you snorted loudly. “As if.” You scoffed, before realizing what you had said. Everyone looked at you, and you hid your face behind your hair again.

The rest of the school day, Peter grew increasingly restless. By the time the final bell rung, Peter shot out of his seat and bolted for the door.

You could have easily caught up to him if you were allowed to use your powers, and you were practically itching to release the contained energy. But you couldn’t, so you didn’t.

“Peter!” You called out to him, crashing through the doors after him. You saw him jump the extremely tall fence, and cursed at him silently.

Knowing already what you needed to do, you met Happy in the car waiting for you the next street down.

“Happy, take me home, and make it quick. I gotta change.”

TAGLIST:

@phoenix-fire-fangirl @twenty-two-airplanes @i-love-superhero @andyl394 @milllionthingsihaventdone @eliza-hamilton-helpless @pugsandkisses14 @oxodianaoxo @arctxcv @vanam0 @scorpiostunner1027 @prancingdestiel @tmrhollandkay @miathefangirlwriter

160 notes · View notes

seyaryminamoto · 6 years

Text

A long overdue message, and an apology

I’ve really not felt like myself for the past few days. Initially, I figured I’d leave my feelings to just settle and die down, but truth be told, the little things are always what push things overboard, and such little things have definitely taken advantage of my vulnerabilities and weaknesses as of late.

Truth is, the problem I’m facing isn’t new. It’s been a snowball, really, and I think it’s gotten so big that it damn near crashed and exploded this time around. I nearly allowed it to, I was more resolved than ever to allow it, but as I was in a better mood, I decided I’d try to deflate things before it comes to that. I’d think you guys deserve an explanation for it all, if anything.

I genuinely feared for myself for a long time, after facing a depression that brought me to the brink of suicide when I was 13. I never talked to anyone about it at the time. I forced my way out of it with nothing but selfishness and stubbornness, because I can’t honestly say it was anything else. The experience shaped me, damaged me, and I still face consequences for it.

I couldn’t say I was feeling better for at least a year or two. While I cut off the trigger of said depression and started looking after myself a little more, I was still at a loss. I still felt numb, to the point of wondering if I was capable of actually feeling ANYTHING, well, other than rage whenever it surged within me, that is.

In time, I came to the conclusion that I only was as numb as I was because I lacked actual living experiences. Because I constantly had to resort to fiction, in any sense of the word, to find something worth investing my time into. So I couldn’t get out of my pointless, cyclic life, and I couldn’t expect my situation to change because I was what, 14 at the time? I was stuck in a city and a country worthy of being called a real-life dystopia, where your life’s at risk at any given moment, where the only thing you can feel you own, truly, is your own mind. So inevitably, I wondered what it would be like to live a different kind of life. To actually experience things, rather than sit by waiting for SOMETHING to happen.

This is why I started writing for real. This is what drove me to create the first story I wrote relatively seriously. I threw myself into it, and it kicked me out sometimes, resulting in writer’s block of months, weeks, even in me dumping storylines for half a year just because I hadn’t thought them through, and I lacked the motivation to think them through, really.

Nevertheless, it was an awakening. I started to feel things that I hadn’t, to actually experience life in a surreal, absurd sort of way. But it was the only way I knew how. This is really why I dislike that typical writing advice people throw everywhere: “write what you know”. Heh, so I should write stories about that girl who went to school and went home every day, feeling empty and wishing something would happen to get her out of her rut? Really? I didn’t want to do that. I didn’t care to expose my feelings of inadequacy, to air my depression through writing. I wanted to experience what I couldn’t. I wanted something different from what I always had seen and known.

It was, truly, healing. I never thought it’d be so healing, but it was. By the time I was finishing those first stories I was in a whole different place, emotionally. I had unlocked my emotions somehow, despite I hadn’t known I’d jolt myself awake through writing as I did. Where I could have stood stoically through life before, I didn’t anymore. So much changed for the better...

.. But see, I didn’t show a lot of people what I’d written. Only my closest friends at the time had a look at it. And, uh, someone who never should have had a look at it got her hands on it, too, but that’s beside the point...

I wasn’t writing for anyone’s sake but my own. It was all coming from me, and from my own interests and needs. So yes, selfishness. I finished that story instead of forgetting about it and leaving it to pile dust, like most my other writing endeavors to date. Alas, stubbornness.

When the story was over, I inevitably caved into the urge of making more for it, and indeed, I came up with ideas for prequels and sequels, but they never really made it far. I knew that what I had really needed to write had already been laid down, and I had learned a ton of things about myself, and about writing, in the process.

Writing that story over the course of three years really built me as the writer I am today. The stamina, the perseverance, the plotting... I learned everything there. I learned everything, alone.

I moved on then, to another story, but I got stuck over technicalities. Then I thought maybe I should put a pin on that one, seeing as I was going to start Lit school, and I probably would do better to write something else so I could actually be at my best when I sat down to write this story, after I graduated college.

That plan has honest to gods backfired and died. I can’t get back to that story, not without fixing A TON of things that really could use a whole different approach.

But as anyone would know, because you probably would have been here long enough to know... when I moved on from this story and to ‘something else’, I moved on to the sphere of fandom life. I moved on to fanfiction. I moved on, that’s right, to Sokkla.

The power those two characters hold over me isn’t normal, and I’ve never tried to pretend otherwise. I was worried at first about how deeply I was losing myself in the possibilities of that ship, but in the end, I embraced it. I thought, what’s the harm in it? Honestly, they’ve brought me no harm at all.

Everything I’ve experienced, everything I’ve learned, my every single step has brought me to where I am now. And when I opened the door to this ship, and to writing for it, I felt ready. I felt like I was jumping into a huge tunnel, and the excitement of what I might find on the other side just compelled me further to jumping inside it right away.

So I jumped. And I can safely say I seldom have looked back. I can safely say these five years of my life have been something extraordinary, especially compared to the monotony that led and accompanied me through my depression.

Yet... I saw that the Sokkla community was mostly dead, really. I couldn’t see recent art for it, I couldn’t find the fics I HOPED I’d find once I really got to looking. I was actually disappointed, wondering why on earth would this fandom, so big and wide, find Sokkla and simply shrug it off as “another random ship”. This ship was so powerful! It had so much potential!

So I consciously, genuinely, took it into my hands to start talking EVERYONE’s ears off about Sokkla. I did it on Facebook, a lot, and haha, I got quite a lot of hate for it. I made a few friends with that, but I eventually drifted away from them when they just weren’t what I was hoping they’d be. When I realized their support for me was as good as conditioned, because they weren’t interested in most of what I wanted to do.

I think that specific facebook page was the first bump in the tunnel. The first real crash that left me tumbling against the walls. Because it was the first time someone read my story, Origins of Pro-Bending, which I indeed wrote because of that person... and they said I was a great writer. They said I did an amazing job. They were completely fascinated by what I’d done, and I was utterly ecstatic about that.

So then I told them I’d write the Reason. And I did. Same friend only read, uh, two chapters? And he started to get annoyed. Really annoyed. He didn’t care to read more from me, unless it was on his terms. And his terms were, what do you know, a ship I didn’t really hate until he made me write it. Until his constant begging and whining, and assurance that he’d read what I was doing “if it was what he liked better”, brought me to make a decision I regret to this day.

It’s not even about the story, not anymore. It stopped being about the story ages ago, and it’s not even about the ship either. It’s about how I felt cornered, stuck between a rock and a hard place, risking losing a friendship if I didn’t do what they were asking me to do.

When I finished the story, I concluded it wasn’t worth it. A friendship on that basis simply wasn’t worth it.

In the end, I cut off all contact with that guy. I don’t really think about him much anymore, even though he gave me actually good things sometimes. He’s the one who introduced me to Halestorm, and no lie, the one who made me write Origins of Pro-Bending in the first place. Without him? I wouldn’t be here. You wouldn’t be reading this, because you wouldn’t even know I exist. Hell knows what I would’ve been doing over the course of the past five years, really.

But there’s someone else I owe my current situation to. Someone who really got me into Sokkla despite we weren’t even acquaintances at the time. Someone I admired from afar for months, and when she first acknowledged my existence I damn near fainted right then and there. To this day, I admire that woman with every bit of my beating heart. Honest to gods, I’ve never cared for someone the way I do for her.

The first thing she ever read by me was Waiting. I was mortified, because THAT was the last thing I wanted HER to look at. Break In followed not long after, and ah, now I was thrilled by her response, and by her praise. When I came up to her with my idea for Gladiator, she didn’t even let me make a choice. She literally told me to WRITE THAT. IMMEDIATELY.

And I obeyed. I was terrified out of my mind, but I obeyed. By then I knew other fandom people from Tumblr, and from FF.net, and they were close enough to me that I would bounce ideas with them. When Gladiator got started, I was more excited than a kid on his first real birthday party, with friends and family and in the coolest place in town. I felt I was doing something insane, and I honestly, TRULY wanted to do it.

The excitement for Gladiator was more short-lived than I ever thought it would be. You might think I’m kidding, or exaggerating, because by every sense, that fic is my life’s biggest success. And it is. But truth is... you don’t know the full picture. The problems that come with writing Gladiator aren’t something I’ve ever talked about before, and they’re something I’ve been carrying within for a long, long time.

That lovely woman I still adore to this day was the biggest support for the first 20-odd chapters of Gladiator. She was so excited every single time I told her about any of my ideas, and she was the first one who wanted to stir up drama and watch things shatter so I could put everything back together again.

Color me surprised when everything changed once chapter 28 attacked.

Her enthusiasm died. Everything about it, just... died. I went over that chapter ten thousand times, trying to figure out where I’d gone wrong, what did I do, what exactly had brought her to react that way. I knew it was a hurtful chapter, of course I did, but... even all my assurances that Sokka was going to grow a lot, and change, that they were both going to undergo a ton of development in time, and that things would get back on track afterwards, did nothing to reassure her. Nothing I told her mattered. Not at all.

To this day, nothing has changed since then. To this day, asking her to read anything I wrote for this story is mortifying. I honestly think she hates it. I really do. Is it true? I don’t know. She hasn’t said she does. But maybe she’s just trying to protect me from the truth, which I honestly can’t appreciate anymore. Not after four years of this routine. Not after all this time.

I’ve beaten myself over this endlessly, more times than anyone ever knew. Why? Because I refused to talk about this. Because I kept asking myself, why was I supposed to tell anyone about this? It was private, it was between her and me. Nobody else I knew even knows her, nobody else talks with her on a daily basis. Nobody would get it. Worse, I figured telling others would lead them to tell me: “you don’t need her, forget about that and move on without her”.

Because the truth is, even if someone told me to do that, I wouldn’t do it because I don’t want to. I don’t. I relished in what had happened when the story had just begun. I still feed off her excitement, whenever I write stories just for her... stories about anything other than Sokka and Azula. I love it when she loves what I do.

But honestly? I will never forgive myself because I killed this ship for her. She has denied it when I’ve brought it up: even if she says it was a long time coming, even if she would rather blame the whole fandom and not me, I will forever carry this guilt and hate myself for this. It’s not optional. It’s not something that I’ll forget if anyone just tells me to get over it. I can’t. She’s my best friend. And I hurt her, and in turn, having hurt her hurts me every damn day of my life.

You’d think, though, that the story ends there. It doesn’t.

This is a trend. This hasn’t stopped. This is cycle, a very vicious, disturbing cycle that I’ve seen happen over, and over, and over. I’ve watched people come and go for five years, and I’ve watched them go from being my most passionate readers, to the most lukewarm ones who, more often than not, don’t even read what I write, for whatever reasons.

There’s a lot of people who still read my fic, no doubt. There’s many people who have never made me feel this way, such as the mastermind who gave me Gladiator’s initial idea, and some faithful readers who’ve been here all along. But... my closest circle of fandom friends? Not one of them reads Gladiator anymore. Is it the length? Beats me. Is it my writing? Too often I’ve told myself it is. Is it the plot no longer interests them? Or is it the ship? Do they just not care about Sokkla anymore?

It’s no secret that I’ve practically devoted five years of my life to this ship. It’s also no secret that I don’t regret it. And my passion for it certainly blinds me to why other people don’t see the things I see. Why is it other people can’t seem to get as attached to Sokkla as I am?

It’s been extra frustrating for the obvious reason: I wanted to bring back Sokkla. I wanted it to thrive, I wanted it to be a bigger ship than it ever was. And I sure as hell was doing everything I could for that purpose: I wrote like a maniac, I drew a ton of things even if 99% of the time I’d see my art and think it wasn’t good enough. I even made fan videos! Though, yeah, Viacom certainly has killed a fair share of them, thank you for nothing, jerkfaces...

I wanted exposure, I wanted to go for the gold, to try my best every day for this ship. And little by little, I felt... that I was succeeding.

I saw people start making art. I lost my shit every single time it happened, because it was spontaneous: THEY WANTED TO DO IT! I couldn’t contain my joy, and I still can’t whenever it happens. Then, when I saw new stories popping up, and most of all, coming from people who said I’d inspired them? When some of those readers were actually writing fics about my story?! I was in cloud nine. I really was.

So, for the longest time, those things drove me to keep going stubbornly onwards through my tunnel. I moved on, pressed forward, thinking that maybe my friends had dropped my stories, didn’t care much about them, but I still had this. I still had the community this ship was starting to build. All those newcomers, all the new content... I was ecstatic about it. Watching all of this come alive made me feel that this was what I’d worked so hard to see. This was the picture I had wanted to paint.

The problem is, I guess I forgot to paint myself in it.

The cycle of friendships that flat-out stop reading me has continued. I’m friends with so many people in this fandom, namely, on Tumblr, and I read what they do. They are excited to show me what they think I’d like, and I love to see all new content. I’ll gladly encourage them every single time!

And yet... despite it’s not happening with EVERYONE, too often I’ve found myself waiting for said encouragement from some people, and gotten nothing in return. I’ve stood there, watching as they’ll reblog every single story for a challenge, except for mine. I’ve asked them questions, wondered what they think of this or that. I’ve given them everything, tried to compel them to return to my story, because I legitimately thought they loved it. They had said they did, at some point. Why did that change? Why didn’t they love it anymore? Did my experiments with fanfiction backfire that badly that I discouraged everyone from what I was doing?

In the last few days, I’ve come to conclude it may just be something else: maybe I’m just being taken for granted. I’ve been here, trying to move mountains, for five years. I’m never going anywhere, am I? That’s what I keep promising, after all. That’s got to be the case, right?

And thus, Seyary doesn’t need acknowledgement, encouragement, or much of anything in the way of feedback. Why would she, after all? Proud boaster of being the only Sokkla story in the first page of top reviewed Avatar stories, even prouder boaster of the actual longest story in the fandom. She’s got 3K+ reviews, what more could she want?

Well, turns out I wanted to be in that picture. Turns out that my efforts to help bring back this ship from the zombie state it was in weren’t so I could stand back and smile upon everyone else from my marble tower: I wanted to be there too, with everyone, and to discuss everyone’s stories as they discussed mine.

Because in the end, this was all I had left. This reborn Sokkla fandom, with all these new voices and new fans... it was the only source of genuine validation I could find anymore. The majority of my close friends, as I said, don’t give a damn anymore. The closest of them all is as good as pained every single time I send her a new chapter. So to muffle the pain that all this rejection was causing on me, I turned to Tumblr. I came here, thinking... at least it would be different here. At least I could count on you guys, right?

And yet I’ve seen the cycle start again. It’s happening, and nobody would know it’s happening because I never talked about it, but it is. As soon as I grow close to some people, they’d stop reading my work. I could name at least four users that I’m dead sure stopped reading me ages ago, but I’m not here to call out anyone because of this, because that is, indeed, the thing. Why should I be calling out anyone? Why would I? What sort of authority do I have, why would ANYONE be expected to read what I write, just on the virtue of it being written by me?

But alas, that thorn stings hard and bad every single time any of the droppers dares say I’m a great writer. Boy, does it sting. I’m so great... that you stopped reading me. I’m so great... that you scroll past my content because it holds zero interest for you anymore. Because you’re taking for granted that it will be there: it’s everyone else who’s ephemeral, whose interest in the ship can wane and waver, but Seyary? She’s a given. She’s here to stay.

Well, that’s certainly true. I’m here to stay. But not on the basis I was before.

My love for Sokkla has not changed in the slightest. My passion for Gladiator burns brighter every day. But with this post, I’ve resolved to stop kidding myself, to stop pretending that these things don’t bother me, because they do. Because I’m aware of the fact that it won’t stop happening, for whatever reasons it may happen.

But I did decide that I’d apologize, here and now, to everyone I’ve expected anything from, and to everyone I’ve been, unknowingly, dumping the weight of my self-worth on. I decided I’m done kidding myself, done with this role of the ever enthusiastic, ever supportive fan-friend who can’t ever say a bad thing to anyone. I’m done reading things from people who don’t extend me anywhere near the same courtesy, done pouring all my support to push everyone else higher, when I’m bumping harder and harder against the obstacles and walls in my endless tunnel. I’m simply not strong enough to carry every weight out there along with my own. Mine’s already heavy enough as it is.

My writing is flawed, and for some people, probably really bad. For a lot of people, it’s just not worth it. Investing ages of your life into reading the story that crazy girl from Venezuela decided to write? Feels like you could probably be doing better things with your life than that, right?

Well, I’m done expecting otherwise. I will appreciate what I do have, the readers I have left, and the new ones who are still pouring in, to my eternal surprise. The friends I still have, who still read me because they want to, and who still cherish my stories, are precious to me as both friends and readers. And you’ll know who you are, because you’d know you’ve stood by me through it all, even if you changed fandoms, even if your main interest is something else entirely. You still love what I do, still read it, and still come to me, even if only once in a while, excited about whatever I wrote recently.

But I am absolutely done with begging, and waiting, for everyone else to read me if just out of pity. I never, EVER, wanted to be a writer who’s a drag for people to read. But it seems I’ve become that for a lot of people. So, never mind. Don’t read me anymore. Don’t bother promising you will one day, because I honestly don’t expect anything from you anymore. I’m not here to berate you into reading me, hell no: NOBODY is forced to read me, and you already made your choice not to. I am not going to be such a two-faced dog that I’d demand more than what I’m willing to give, not at this point.

But I’m also done with trying to do things I don’t want to do, for other people’s sakes. I’m not going to write anything I don’t want to write, no matter if I’ve taught myself to work even when I’m uninspired. But I’m no longer going to force myself to be involved in anything and everything, just for the sake of giving the ship more exposure, or for the sake of encouraging people who simply are using me as a crutch, who will swat my content away like it’s meaningless while moving on to other pastures.

This problem has been building up since year one. I am only acknowledging it publicly now, and not even just to air my dirty laundry: I’m doing it to strengthen my own resolve. Now that it’s in writing, now that it’s out there, I’m not going to bury it back inside myself again. I’m not going to pretend any longer.

I can safely say I’ve given more of myself to his ship than anyone else has, whether during the fandom’s early years or nowadays. And rest assured, I will continue to do so, but now I’m doing it on my terms. That’s what everyone else is doing anyways. I’m pretty sure I get the right to choose now, too, if I want to read or if I don’t. If I want to reblog or if I don’t. If I want to publish or if I don’t. If I want to write or if I don’t.

I reiterate my apology: I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like you needed to read or like or enjoy anything of mine, especially if you never cared for it. I’m sorry if I expected too much of you, if I ever pressured you to do anything you didn’t want to do, just to please me.

I played my part in this story. I have experienced things I never did before, and I was the happiest I’ve been in ages when I cried, for the first time, while I was writing Gladiator’s 126th chapter. I can safely say I’ve broken out of the rut that my first depression was dragging me through. I’ve felt things I never thought I’d feel, and no doubt, the majority of them have been thanks to my writing. The majority of them, thanks to Sokkla.

So I will continue, for those two, and for my story. But at the brink of another huge, disgusting depression, I’m plugging out my people-pleaser mentality. I’m not here to police anyone, and I’m not here to get anyone to behave nicely. If anyone wants to be at each other’s throats, I’m not stopping them anymore. If anyone wants to create content I disapprove of, they can go ahead and do whatever they damn please. If anyone wants to badmouth me and say I’m an arrogant bitch for making a post like this, be my guest. Maybe I am a whiner, maybe I am making mountains out of molehills. Ultimately, though, maybe I’ve just seen the bigger picture and realized it’s smaller than I thought. And maybe I’ve realized it’s time for me to get back to my selfish side now. Maybe I need to take care of myself, and stop trying to take care of everyone else around me before it tears me apart.

I’m truly not going anywhere. But I’m going to focus on what I want, first and foremost. If every single person I know drops my fic at this point, I honestly don’t even have it in me to give two shits anymore. Because I’m done writing it for anyone else, and done feeling guilty for loving something that so many others seem to hate or be indifferent towards. I’m done. I’m sorry, but I’d always refused to live my life with my head bowed and my eyes on the floor. I’ve never wanted to depend on anyone else for anything, and depending on them for my self worth was probably the most masochistic idea I could’ve resorted to, especially after having undergone that damn depression ten years ago. I love Gladiator, and I’ll never love it any less. And whoever wants me to love anything else, to stop writing this, to write whatever they want me to instead... well, I’m sorry to say you’re not getting what you want. Not anymore. I’m doing this on my own terms now. I’m responsible for myself, and nothing more.

There’s plenty of content to go around by now. I’m pretty sure newcomers will find something to their taste, at one point or another. So yes, I feel I’ve played my part in the community. Now I’m taking my breather from that, and doing whatever the hell I want to, for a change.

So there. Everything’s out now. And yeah, I already feel better. Chest feels a little less hollow than before. It’s kind of sad, though, because I know a few people who probably could use reading this, but alas, reading through my posts gets very boring, eh? Heh. At any rate, if you got to the bottom of this, thanks for caring. I’ll be around, even if I’m not going to be quite the same anymore. I’m done lying to myself. I will be fine, but I’m not right now. I have to work to get back to being fine for good. And that’s what I’m going to do, from now on.

#the most personal post I ever wrote #this has been building up for over a week now #but I'm done hiding what I'm feeling

45 notes · View notes

were-cheetah-stiles · 7 years

Text

The College Years - Freshman Year (Chapter 14) - Stiles Stilinski

Author: @were-cheetah-stiles

Title: “The Big Easy Resurrection, Part I”

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall, Chris Argent, Sylvie Ducette, Alan Deaton, Melissa McCall, Gerard Argent, Allison Argent, & Reader/OFC

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, return of major character, cursing probably, I just assume at this point.

A.N.: This chapter was so much fun to write. I hope you all enjoy your trip to New Orleans.

Summary: Y/n, Scott, and Stiles go down to New Orleans in order for the coven witches to bring Allison Argent back to life.

Chapter Thirteen - Chapter Fourteen - Chapter Fifteen

Scott, Stiles, Y/N, Lydia, Isaac, Parrish, Derek, Cora, Ethan, Malia, Liam and Hayden sat in Y/N’s living room, discussing what was about to happen. The usual side chatter and snarky comments were not to be found that day.

"So Derek is going to be up here and Liam and Hayden are going to be on call if you guys need extra help while we're away.... Listen, if we could do this after we dealt with the vampires, we would, but we're running out of time." Scott explained to his pack.

"So Gerard agreed to do it... willingly?" Malia asked, lacking tact.

"He agreed. He knows he dying and even though he's a jackass..."

"I think you mean 'absolute sociopath', Scott." Stiles interjected.

"Okay, yea, even though he's totally a sociopath, I think that he genuinely loved Allison. He wants to give her another shot." Scott explained to Malia and everyone else. He was being very stoic and matter-of-fact about the whole meeting that night.

"So the cancer came back?" Parrish asked, uncomfortable about crossing the line into sacrificing people, even if that person was Gerard Argent.

"Yea, and it's worse than last time, he's got weeks left.. at best." Isaac interjected, wanting to back up Scott and Chris' decision.

"And how are we going to explain the fact that everyone thought she was dead for... years? People saw the body..." Ethan asked, the skepticism in his voice apparent. He couldn't understand why they couldn't bring Aiden's body along and bring him back to life as well.

"Ah, I'm glad you asked." Stiles answered, a mischievous grin spreading across his face, the kind he got when he knew that he came up with a good plan. "I've got Braeden backdating paperwork stating that Allison was in the witness protection program and that the government faked her death to keep her safe." Stiles rubbed his hands together, as he explained the plan.

"Safe from whom.. is that actually going to work?" Ethan questioned again.

Stiles raised his hand and glared at Ethan. "I could put your name down, you're insane and dangerous."

"She'll make it work.. She is an actual U.S. Marshal again after all." Derek answered, stopping the bickering.

"It'll all work, you guys, they've been performing this ceremony for centuries... It'll work." Y/N reassured the group.

"We'll be back with Allison by Monday." Scott said, wrapping up the pack meeting.

You watched from your window seat as Chris Argent directed the luggage handlers on how to load the casket into the cargo hold of the Argent family plane. You looked around and saw the pensive faces of Scott, Melissa McCall and Dr. Deaton, settling into their seats and preparing to take off. Stiles walked back to sit next to you, buckling his seatbelt in and taking hold of your hand.

"Now that everyone is aboard, please fasten your seatbelts. The safety demonstration will start momentarily, and we will begin taxiing shortly after. Thank you." The flight attendant said from the front of the small jet, as Mr. Argent buckled himself in next to his father, Gerard.

"You okay?" Stiles asked, squeezing your hand gently to get your attention from the window.

"Yea, just nervous... Did Gerard say anything to you two when you were getting him strapped in?" You asked Stiles and Scott who was sitting across from the couple.

"Yea, he wants to talk to you and Deaton before we land. I think he has some questions about what's going to happen." Scott answered.

"I don't know how much I can even answer. I don't even know that much. Did you tell him that I'm only here because the coven witch requested it?" You asked, the panic sinking in.

Stiles rubbed his hand up and down your arm, trying to calm you. "He knows that, and don't worry, Deaton can probably answer some questions." He reassured you.

The flight was finally in progress and you sat down next to Dr. Deaton, across from Chris and Gerard. Stiles, Scott and Melissa settled into the seats adjacent to hear the conversation, and keep an eye on Gerard.

"Why didn't the cleansing work?" Gerard asked.

"It did.. it stopped the black blood from coming out of your body. That was all that it was meant to do." Dr. Deaton answered for you, in his usual wise and calm tone.

"Did it bring the cancer back?"

You looked to Deaton; you had wondered the same thing for a few weeks. "No. Derek's bite wasn't a forever cure. That would have only been the case if he had actually turned you." Deaton spoke up again. You sighed quietly in relief that you didn't cause a man to get mortally sick.

"Isaac and I could smell the cancer the last time we were with you, before Y/N even did the cleansing." Scott interjected.

"Will it hurt?" Chris asked, knowing that Gerard wanted to know the answer, but knowing that he would never ask the question.

"My father said it won't." You said finally.

"Then let's just get this over with already." Gerard leaned his head back, grimacing and closing his eyes.

They drove through the black wrought iron gates of an old New Orleans cemetery, and you felt the power around you. Chris, Stiles, and Scott unloaded the casket as Dr. Deaton and Melissa escorted Gerard inside. You followed closely behind, but stopped in your tracks at the sight of a tall, older woman, dressed in a black robe, with flaming red hair and bags under her eyes.

"Y/N Y/M/N, oui?" The tall woman spoke in French. You nodded. "Ca va?" The women asked.

"Bien, et toi?" You spoke back, hesitantly.

"Bien. It's good to finally meet the future of New England's witches. My name is Sylvie Renee Ducette." Her accent was thick only like those who had New Orleans running through their blood for centuries. "Why don't we go inside and talk while we wait for dusk?"

You nodded and followed her into a room, where the whole group and some older coven witches sat waiting for them. You sat down next to Stiles and Melissa, and took Stiles' hand in yours. You could feel the magic floating through the air, and you hoped that Stiles could anchor you back to reality.

"Bonjour. Je m'appelle Sylvie Renee Ducette...... and I will be the one performing the Transfert tonight. It's good to meet y'all." Sylvie stood in front of the group and folded her hands in front of her. "Does anyone have questions?"

Everyone sat in silence, looking around at each other for a few moments. Finally Scott spoke up. "How long does it all take?"

"We'll begin in an hour, and it will take about an hour after that. The Transfert must be complete at the moment that the Sun finally sets." Sylvie remained standing at the front of the room, waiting for further inquiries.

"What will she remember?" Melissa asked, quietly.

"Tout." Sylvie answered. Melissa looked to you to translate.

"Everything." You said.

"So, she'll remember dying?" Stiles questioned, skeptically.

"Oui. She'll remember. She'll remember everything, but what has happened in the in between. She'll have all of her old memories and feelings. She'll be your Allison Argent once again."

"And it doesn't matter that she is.... a decayed.... corpse now, you said she would look the same, right?" You confirmed awkwardly. Sylvie nodded.

"Will she be healthy?" Mr. Argent finally piped up, trying to maintain his composure.

"Like nothing ever happened."

"Will she be darker?... cause I feel like in movies, when they do this, you come back like evil or whatever... and you know, when we did this, I came back a nogitsune, so...." Stiles wondered out loud.

Sylvie smiled softly at Stiles' question, and chuckled before answering. "This ritual is very different than the one he performed." She glanced carelessly at Deaton. "Unless she was dark before, she will not be dark after."

"So she'll just be Allison?" Scott clarified.

Sylvie nodded, and then turned her attention to Gerard. "I'll let you say your goodbyes, but then we must take him and the body to begin preparing them. You are all invited to witness. Someone will be in to fetch you shortly." With that, she turned and left the room, the other coven witches following behind her.

Everyone sat in silence for a few minutes.

"Make sure Allison knows who did this for her." Gerard announced to the room. "Make sure my legacy lives on through her."

"Thank you, Gerard." Scott said sincerely, as Gerard scowled at the young Alpha.

They watched as they laid Gerard on a large stone slab next to Allison's decaying corpse on an adjacent stone slab. The coven witches placed large metal bowls below the four corners of Gerard's table.

They then poured oils, herbs and flowers over Allison and Gerard's bodies. They wrapped Allison's torso in clean, white, linen cloth, and began burning sage around the room.

"Y/N, what does 'Transfert' mean?" Scott whispered.

"Transference. It's the name of the ritual." You answered.

Stiles leaned over to whisper to you. "This is much less disturbing than I imagined." You turned your head and simply looked at Stiles, seeming concerned, but before Stiles could find out what was wrong, Sylvie began speaking.

"We are going to begin now. A warning: do not break the seal around the tables or else the ceremony will not take." Sylvie said to the guests, standing against the wall.

Sylvie then turned her back to the pack and began touching implements on the table in front of her. One of the younger coven witches walked towards Gerard and began an incantation, he then laid his hands on Gerard's forehead and chest.

Gerard let out a long, loud breath. "C'est parti.... c'est parti." He said softly.

"What'd they just do?!" Scott asked.

"They took away his pain... C'est parti.. it's gone." You whispered.

"Completely?" Stiles questioned.

"Completely." The concern still shrouding your face.

The room then filled with coven witches, who began chanting in a mix of French and Latin. After a few minutes, they closed their eyes, bowed their heads and began to whisper their incantations.

In one swift and sudden movement, Sylvie turned around and slit Gerard's throat with a short scythe. You and Melissa gasped. Scott and Stiles winced, looking away. Stiles wrapped his arms around you and tucked your head into his neck. You peeked out from under your hair to see Chris intently staring at Allison's still lifeless corpse. Scott yelled for Sylvie to stop, as they all watched her move her way around the table, slitting Gerard's wrists and calves. Deaton held Scott back from disrupting the ritual.

Blood poured out of Gerard, as he gasped for his last breaths on his own. The bowls under the corners of the slab filled with the red life force, and Gerard became more and more pale. The chant grew louder as the flow of blood began to slow and the sun began to set.

As the last bits of blood dripped from the table, four coven witches broke from the group and picked up the bowls from the dusty ground. They poured Gerard's blood over Allison's corpse, and then stepped away. The sun went down and the room went dark and silent.

"ALLUMER!" Sylvie said forcefully, as suddenly all of the candles in the room illuminated with flames at their wicks and a massive gasp for air was heard from Allison's stone perch.

Allison gasped for air again and jolted forward, sitting up in place. Her hands frantically roamed her face, trying to wipe the blood off. Scott and Chris Argent rushed towards the table. Her skin was her usual porcelain perfection underneath and her hair, while matted down thick with wet blood, was it's previous silky brown splendor. The corpse was gone and was replaced by Allison Argent.

Stiles helped Scott get Allison into the car, but paused when he noticed that the only one not loading in was you. He looked around for you for a moment, and then saw you standing outside of the mausoleum, speaking with Sylvie, who had her hand on your shoulder. You nodded your head at Sylvie who turned to re-enter the structure where the Transference had just taken place.

"What'd she just say to you?" Stiles asked as you approached him outside of the car.

Thirteen <- -> Fifteen

I LOVE THIS CHAPTER. I hope you all did too. Let me know what you thought. Are you glad Allison is back?

Equally huge chapter coming up on Monday, so let me know if you want to be tagged in it! Enjoy the Season Premiere tomorrow!

@alexhmak @dontstopxx @iloveteenwolf24 @chivesoup @vampirepinary @parislight @surpeme-bean @snek-shit @mayahart02 @fuxkdean @teenage-dirtbagbaby @sorrynotsorrylovesome @iknowisoundcrazy

294 notes · View notes

junaeneous · 7 years

Text

Jeffrey’s Hill (M) Part Seventeen

SUMMARY: “Don’t go to Jeffrey’s Hill,” he warned. “A lot of shit goes on there. Even the police ignore crime reports that surface from there.” You rolled your eyes. “What is everyone so afraid of?”

Your brother sounded grave. “The power of the Chimera.”

GENRE: violence, angst, a little bit of humour (because it’s me) and the occasional tonsil-hockey.

MEMBER/GROUP: EXO + BTS

PARTS: intro | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19

A/N: helloooo! it’s been 84 years, I know, I know, and I’m sorry! the recap is below for those who don’t want to read the entirety of the previous chapter. :D

RECAP: OC’s mother, Reina, has been killed by Jae Hyeon. Yoongi has been critically injured and is yet to wake, while all units of the gang abroad have been dismantled, awaiting further orders. OC + Junmyeon got a lot closer, as did Desiree and Namjoon. They want to end the fight with Ava before they proceed to transition from a gang into a video-technology business. Kris, Tao and Luhan have made their appearances and are helping with the transition.

YOONGI WOKE TO THE SOUND OF HIS OWN HEARTBEAT.

He gasped, head falling back onto the pillow as the heartbeat monitor beside him settled back into its monotonous beeping. Seconds later, a nurse stumbled in, eyes wide in shock. “Mr. Min, you’re--you’re awake!”

Yoongi nodded. “Could you--get me a glass of--” He coughs, struggling to swallow the dryness away. The nurse caught on and grabbed the glass on the table, filling it and handing it to him. The water cools his throat and chases away the dryness, enabling him to speak. “Is everyone okay?”

“We’ve had a lot of losses,” the nurse spoke softly, lowering her head, “and few recoveries. Most are still fighting for their lives. We’re told to expect the worst at the moment.”

The older’s jaw clenched. “How many losses?”

“I’m not sure, sir, but the number is large.”

Innocent lives that had nothing to do with the personal battle between the members, you and Jae Hyeon. They’d paid a price not cashed in their names. Yoongi dismissed the nurse, waiting until she left to grab the his phone from the table closer to his reach. He dialled Jimin’s number, smiling slightly when the younger answered on the first ring.

“Yoongi?”

“Yes, hello.”

“You’re awake? Holy shit. You’re actually--oh my god I’ll be right there--”

“No, Jimin, wait. You don’t need to come here, I’m on my way there.” Jimin immediately whined in protest, saying it would be better for him to rest. To that, Yoongi countered, “Jimin, I’m sure I’ve been resting for longer than necessary. They’ve reduced the size of my bandages, it’s clearly been a while. Stay put, I’m on my way.”

“You’re so goddamn stubborn,” the younger grumbled, making him chuckle. “But hey, should I update you as you make your way here?”

“That’d be wonderful.”

And so Yoongi learned of all that he’d missed. The successful dismantling of the units. The cheesy name of the new company, and its sleek logo. Desiree and Namjoon finally taking the step into a relationship, you and Junmyeon following closely behind. The subtle hunt for Jae Hyeon. Finding a body near the west border that later identified to be Marcus, who had shot by one of Jae Hyeon’s men. His daughter was being watched over by Jongin. They’d relocate her to Canada soon.

“And lastly, how everyone’s been worried sick about you.” The younger’s voice grew soft. “Do you know how terrified we’ve been? Every time the doctor called, we feared the worst. You were dead for ten fucking minutes. Dead.”

“I tried to reverse his shot, but I was sloppy.” Yoongi admitted defeatedly. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s not what I care about. Take better care of yourself, do you honestly want to die a bitter, single, loner?”

“Did you just call me bitter?”

“I also called you a loner,” Jimin added, chuckling. “But I’m serious. You need to watch out when you head on into missions. Treating them nonchalantly may be your way of handling the seriousness of it, but this is a good example of why you should have, at the very least, a little bit of caution.”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Yoongi rolled his eyes. “I’ll be careful, happy? I mean, it’s not like we’ll ever have to do missions again if this goes successfully.”

“Not if,” Jimin corrected. “When. It’s already been put into motion.”

Yoongi managed a genuine smile at that. No more missions. No more fearing that one day he’d be burying one of his brothers. No more recruiting and selling things that repulsed him. Despite everything, they were going to begin anew.

That was the only thing he could offer to the ones who’d given their lives for it.

“Y/N!”

You spun around to face Namjoon. “Junmyeon’s stuck in a meeting, so he can’t drive you back home. I’m your designated driver once again.”

“He texted me.” You confirmed, smiling. “Hey, before I go home, can we drop by my old house by any chance? I just want to get one last look at it before it’s cleared out and sold to someone else.”

He nodded. “Sure. Come on.”

The drive to your old house was filled with minimum chatting. You teased Namjoon about Desiree and he, in turn, backhanded by bring up Junmyeon. It felt nice to indulge in normality, despite everything around you.

Once Namjoon pulled to a stop, you exited the car, doing your best to block out the emotions that were slowly rising to the surface. Without thinking too much, you entered, Namjoon following closely behind.

The living room was empty. All of the pictures that hung on the walls were gone. The furniture had been taken out. No sign of you or your family remained. You sucked in a breath to help with the overwhelming sadness that you felt. This was going to be harder than you’d imagined.

You made your way to your parents’ bedroom, remembering what Junmyeon had told you. Namjoon chose to stay in the living room, giving you the space you needed. The room was almost empty, save for the bed, which had no mattress. You walked towards it, remembering how angry your mother would get when you’d place your hands on the sides of the bed. Upon closer inspection, you noticed something odd about the base of the bed. A portion of it seemed strange in comparison to the entire base. You placed your hands on it, freezing with realisation.

A false base.

Your fingers were quick to search for an entry, prying the wood away when they did so. Underneath, in a secret compartment, was a box.

This was what your mother had meant.

You pulled out the box, seating yourself on the floor so you could uncover what was inside.

Several letters addressed to your brother, father and you were placed neatly inside. You frowned. What could she have possibly written in there that she hadn’t already said?

You left the letters addressed to your brother and father alone, only pulling out the envelopes that had your name scribbled onto the front.

Hesitantly, you slid your finger under the lip of the envelope, tearing it open to get to the papers inside. Hands trembling, you smoothed out the papers, taking a deep breath before reading.

To my sweet, sweet daughter,

If you’re reading this, then I’m dead. Or maybe this is someone else holding this. I sincerely hope it isn’t.

I would like to start off by saying I’m sorry.

I wasn’t meant to be a mother. That, in no way, excuses what I’ve done and continue to do, but it’s just the one fact that no one is willing to accept. I’m not someone who can give herself up for others. I’m selfish and cruel, I ran a gang with a man who ruined me.

People like us can’t love, sweetheart.

But somehow, I loved you. I loved your brother. I loved your father. Your father’s love for me was pure but it wasn’t enough. Nothing could have ever fixed me.

However, for the briefest moments, it felt like we were going to be okay.

I remember your twelfth birthday, when you cried because I’d remembered. You looked so happy and you reached out to hug me. When I held you, I felt like I could finally be at peace. I could try to be the mother you two wanted, I could try to fix everything and forget my past.

Clearly I failed.

There was just too much I was running away from. It drove me insane and I took it out on my undeserving family. I’m sorry.

I understand if you choose not to forgive me.

It feels nice to get this all out somewhere. I hope you do read this.

Love,

Mom

Even then, you found yourself reaching for the next envelope.

As you read on, you found that the letters were getting less and less apologetic, and more instructive. Your mother had known you were going to be recruited by the gangs someday. She knew your aunt would come to the field too. She had seen it coming all along. She knew you’d fall for the leader’s son, a sick twist of history repeating itself, but perhaps for the better.

The only thing she couldn’t predict was the winning side.

But, she had left you vital information on being one step ahead of your aunt. Something that would be useful to taking them all down and walking away to start off fresh. Your mother proved to be of no use or comfort while she’d been alive, but with these letters, you grew to understand that perhaps she’d offered a lot that you’d missed.

When you got the last portion of the final letter, your eyes widened. A tactic move, the checkmate you’d all been looking for.

“Namjoon!”

You stuffed all of the other letters back into the box, lifting it quickly as you rushed out of the room to meet the startled leader.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes.” You handed him the letter. “It’s better than okay. My mom just told me how to take Ava down.”

Namjoon’s eyes slid over the words on the letter, eyes widening as he got to the end. He lowered the paper and met your gaze, looking incredibly stunned.

“Holy shit, Y/N,” his voice was full of disbelief. “Your mother just gave us our checkmate move.”

previous // next

31 notes · View notes

peterparkersgal · 7 years

Text

Spider Love

Peter has a crush on the relatively new girl.

Peter and Ned had been friends for years. They constantly bonded over their love for science and Star Wars. Ned was the only person who knew that Peter was Spider-man. It killed him every day that he couldn’t just blurt out Peter’s secret to everyone, but he made it through. Having to keep such a big secret made it difficult for Ned to keep all the other little secrets he was supposed to keep.

It was an ordinary Thursday afternoon. Peter was at his locker staring across the hall at Holmes. She had moved to Queens a couple of months ago. She didn’t really talk to many people and seemed to prefer the company of books to people. She was wearing a green jumper with the words “IF LOOKS COULD KALE” written across the front as she leaned against the wall with a book in her hands.

Peter had immediately noticed her the moment she walked through the doors of his advanced physics class. Her blue hair was flowing and her green eyes were glowing behind her adorable round glasses. Her cheeks were dotted with freckles and she was wearing a Doctor Who scarf which had Peter’s nerd senses tingling.

Peter was disturbed from his daydream state when Ned walked in front of him, blocking his view.

“Hey man. What are you staring at?” Ned asked turning around to face the direction Peter was looking in.

“Nothing.” Peter said, immediately turning around to fiddle with his books in his locker. He couldn’t let Ned know about his secret crush. If he found out it would no longer be a secret crush.

“Why are you staring at Holmes?” Ned said turning around to face Peter, who was now blushing profusely.

“No reason.” Peter squeaked, his voice getting high as he tried to lie to Ned.

“Oh my gosh. You like the new girl.” Ned said, realising why Peter was staring at her.

Peter looked horrified when he finally made eye contact with Ned. “What are you talking about? No I don’t.” Peter grabbed his bag, now filled with books, and shut his locker, turning to walk away.

“Yes you do.” Ned said scuttling after him.

“So what if I do?” Peter said stopping and turning to face Ned.

“You should talk to her.” Ned said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Or ask her out. Do something dude!”

“I’ll pass.” Peter said, walking out the doors of the school. Ned followed shaking his head. He never understood why Peter didn’t have much confidence when it came to girls. He was the smartest kid in school and he was pretty cute, if you’re into the whole nerdy guy thing. Not to mention, the guy had super powers. Not that anyone knew that last bit.

“Come on Peter.” Ned said. “How do you expect to ever get a girlfriend if you won’t even talk to the girl you like.”

“Ned, the last time I went out with a girl, her father ended up being a supervillain, who I put in jail.” Peter said walking at a faster pace, wanting the conversation to end already.

“But what are the odds of that happening again?” Ned said nearly having to run to keep up with Peter’s quick strides. Peter stopped suddenly causing Ned to bump into him.

“Fine. If I promise to talk to her tomorrow, will you drop the subject?” Peter had a pleading look on his face. He really didn’t like talking about this type of thing.

“Absolutely.” Ned said. “First thing tomorrow, you gotta talk to her or I’ll tell everyone about your little crush. And by everyone, I mean Michelle, who will then tell the whole school.”

“I promise. I’ll talk to her. First thing tomorrow.” Peter said crossing his heart.

The two boys continued their journey’s home, one more nervous than when he left school.

When Peter arrived at school the next day he was extremely nervous. He didn’t know why he was so nervous. It wasn’t as if he was going to ask her out, he was just going to talk to her. He was pacing outside of the library. He knew she was in there. Every morning she would sit at the end of aisle 2 and read. She always had her nose stuck in a book.

Peter saw Ned coming down the hall and decided to be brave. He turned around and entered the library, taking a deep breath. ‘You can do this,’ he told himself. ‘Come on Peter. You fight bad guys every night and you can’t talk to a pretty girl.’ He let out the breath he was holding and walked towards aisle 2.

He saw her sitting there and was about to approach her when he lost his courage. She looked really pretty today. Well, she always looked pretty in Peter’s eyes. She had her long blue hair in a messy braid, trailing over her shoulder. Peter walked right passed the row and to the next one. He took a few deep breaths and tried to psych himself up. He never got this nervous around Liz. Probably because he knew he never had a shot with her. She was a popular senior, and he was a nobody sophomore. ‘You got this.’ He thought to himself.

He turned around and approached the row of books she was sitting in. This time he didn’t walk right past and actually entered. He approached her slowly, being very quiet. He looked down at the book in her lap and nearly laughed out loud at the irony. She was reading Sherlock Holmes. He began to wonder if maybe he was her namesake.

“You know, I always was more of an Agatha Christie fan.” Peter heard himself say.

Holmes startled at the voice of a stranger. She looked up and saw a familiar face. Peter and Holmes shared two classes together, Physics and gym. They never talked to each other, they didn’t even sit near each other, but Peter always admired her from afar.

Holmes let out a small, nervous laugh and returned to her book. Peter knew this was going to be difficult. The girl was awfully shy so starting an actual conversation was going to be a challenge. But who didn’t love a challenge?

“I’m Peter. Peter Parker.” He claimed, waving a little awkwardly.

Holmes looked up and smiled slightly. “Holmes,” was all she said. She was very quiet but Peter couldn’t help but notice how smooth her voice sounded.

“I know.” Peter blurted, eyes widening, immediately realising how creepy that sounded. “I-I-I mean, we have physics together.” He corrected himself, blushing copiously.

“And gym.” She added, smiling at his nervousness. Holmes knew exactly who Peter was. He was extremely smart and hung around with his best friend Ned all the time.

“Right. Gym.” Peter affirmed, sighing with relief. “So are you named after him?” he asked sitting down next to her. They were so close but not yet touching. Peter didn’t want to frighten her.

Holmes nodded, smiling at the nerdy boy. “M-my p-parents first met when they both reached for the same copy of Sherlock at the bookshop.” She stuttered. Peter was lucky he had great hearing. She spoke so softly it was very difficult to hear her. Peter had never met someone who got nervous around him. Normally it was him doing the stuttering.

“That’s actually really cool.” He commented, smiling brightly over the fact that he was now actually having a conversation with the girl he had liked for weeks. “My parents just liked the name Peter, I suppose.” He shrugged.

Holmes just smiled at Peter and returned her gaze to her book. Peter sat there for a moment, taking in her beauty. She was so effortlessly pretty. It drove Peter insane. He cast his eyes to the bookmark that was sitting on the floor next to her. He couldn’t help but smile when he saw it.

“You like spiders?” Peter asked nodding towards her bookmark.

Holmes followed Peter’s gaze and noticed her bookmark. “Oh,” she marvelled with surprise. “Yeah. They’re really fascinating.” She said picking up the bookmark and placing it in her book. “Did you know when a spider walks it always has four legs on the ground and four legs off the ground?”

Peter smiled at her. It was a rather odd fascination. Spiders freaked most people out. But not this girl. “That’s actually pretty interesting.” He declared, genuinely finding the fact interesting.

“I was so excited when I found out we were moving here.” She gushed, smiling brightly.

“Why was that?” Peter asked curiously. “Queens is pretty ordinary.”

“Spider-man lives here.” She beamed excitedly. “When I first saw him on the internet I thought it was fake, but then he kept showing up and I grew more curious. He’s a man, with superpowers that make him similar to a spider.”

“He’s pretty awesome.” Peter agreed. “I’ve actually seen him. He’s pretty amazing.” He said. He felt kind of weird talking about himself like this. He’d never really done it before but he really wanted to impress this girl and if talking about spider-man did that, then he wasn’t going to complain.

“I’d love to study him one day. Find out what his webs are made from, find out how he got his powers.” She gushed. Peter had never heard Holmes talk this much. She always kept to herself, only talking to people if she had to. She had never seemed this enthusiastic about something before either. Although there was this one time in the hallway, Peter was watching her read, it must have been a good ending because her face lit up like a Christmas tree. She looked really beautiful when she was happy.

“Maybe someday you’ll meet him.” Peter smiled at her.

“Hopefully.” She smiled back. The pair just sat there, smiling at each other.

Their moment was disturbed when the bell rang. Peter jumped up and reached down to help Holmes up. She smiled and thanked him.

“I guess I’ll see you in physics later?” Peter asked unsurely.

“I guess you will.” Holmes agreed, grabbing her stuff and walking away.

“It was nice talking to you.” Peter uttered hurriedly to her retreating figure.

She turned around and smiled at him once more. “It was nice talking to you too.”

“We should do it again sometime.” Peter said, sounding a little more confident this time.

“Definitely.” She replied. “You know where to find me.” She stated before she disappeared around the corner.

Peter sighed and rested his back against the bookshelf closest to him. He couldn’t believe he got through an entire conversation with the girl he was crushing on, without making a total fool of himself.

For the rest of the day he couldn’t stop smiling whenever he thought back to the conversation he had that morning. Holmes was really something, and he couldn’t wait to get to know her more. There was just something about her that really drew Peter in. He had never met a girl like her. Who was quiet and shy but would get extremely confident when talking about spiders of all things.

He knew exactly what a certain superhero would be doing that afternoon, and it didn’t involve grand theft bicycles or churros.

#peter parker #spider-man: homecoming #spiderman #tom holland #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fanfic

3 notes · View notes

thecrimsonarcher · 7 years

Text

(Note: This is an interview scene between the last remaining member of the cult responsible for the destruction of Zion Mountain and a young intern whose loved ones were lost during this tragedy.) Continued from Part 2-- KC: As the days passed, I spent them barricaded in my own apartment. After all I had witnessed that night, I couldn't bring myself to come out and face everyone, knowin' damn good and well they were completely ignorant to what was really goin' on. When you finally open your eyes to the truth, the pain begins to become unbearable. I spent my entire life wearin' rose colored glasses, seein' the world with this warped ideology that I had convinced myself made complete sense when in reality....it was absolutely batshit insane. You've got to understand. This was all I had ever known, from the time I was just a little kid all the way up to when I was your age. From the moment you start to show the ability to have some awareness for yourself and the world around you...that's when they cram it down your throat. I know what you're thinkin'--Did anyone ever step up and say, "Hey, we think you're full of it, please stop"? It wouldn't have done any good. In fact, it would've been worse. It was too far beyond anyone's control by then. Zion Mountain had been doomed for generations. The tragic part is...they couldn't see it comin'. They couldn't see the reality for themselves, that their God was a monster who wanted nothin' more from them than their obedience. Obedience...all it did was make it easier for Kalona to destroy them. God always has a plan for us, right? By this time, no one was capable of makin' decisions for themselves. They had become so reliant on the church that their ability to think had completely ceased altogether. About a month before the Incident, Zion Mountain went downhill and collectively lost its shit. I don't know who in the hell told people about the situation with Kalona and how he needed "energy" in order to become whole again, but I'm startin' to wonder if it wasn't Joseph. The people reacted to this just as you'd expect. LM: Judgin' by the aftermath, they took the news pretty well, right? Their God was real and by default...that gave them the right to do anything they wanted? KC: You hit the nail right on the head. Things started gettin' pretty bad over there. See, there were rumors goin' around that the Feds had sent a few agents into town to infiltrate the cult and take it down from the inside. Whether it was true or not remains to be seen. Even I don't know if it was true or not, but here's what I do know--a lot of good, honest people started to go missin' in droves. See, if you thought for yourself, you were dangerous. If you questioned the gospel, you were a threat. If you want to know the truth of the matter....I think a lot of people started to question what they has just been told. Even as we're discussin' it now, it still seems a little far fetched. You're taught in any other religion that you can't see the physical form of whatever God you're prayin' to, that you can feel it deep within your soul. When you're told your god is no longer a concept, but an actual, living thing...it ruins it for you and lowers your expectations. When the church started seein' this, they had to retaliate somehow. The non-believers were just havin' a crisis of faith, right? They should see for themselves how great our lord and savior is. LM: And they were easy targets to be sacrificed... KC: That's how it was. No one felt bad for it. When you're that brainwashed beyond all hope, there's no escape. From the moment you were born, you were already dead on arrival, existin' as nothin' more than a hollow shell that pretends to be alive, to be human. Their words were all the same, repeatin' themselves over and over again like a broken record. If they had just thought about it and actually looked at Duncan's journals, they'd realize they were in deep shit. Instead...they had become nothin' more than sheep that were bein' led off to the slaughterhouse by an evil God who never cared about them in the first place and I did nothin' to stop it. LM: Correction--you were in no position at the time to stop it, even if you did have the chance. Think about it, what you said about people disappearin' after expressing doubt with the church? That could've easily happened to you. If you had said somethin' all those years ago and the cult found out...who knows what they would've done? If it means somethin'....I'm glad you're alive-- KC: Its easy for you to say that. Me? I'm tryin' my best to hold on every single day without losin' it. I know you mean well, but...why are you so nice to me? As far as you're concerned, you'd want me dead for bein' associated with the cult that killed your family. LM: Because you've suffered so much. They have used you and they have abused you, but somehow, they didn't destroy you. I think it's no coincidence that you managed to survive. Just by talkin' with you today...it's like a huge weight has been taken off my shoulders. I finally have the answers to the questions I've been so desperate to look for after all those years of bein' left to wonder what happened. If you died along with everyone else...the truth would've died along with them. KC: Thanks, man. Maybe it was by some weird twist of fate that I lived on while the rest of the cult died out. It's just my opinion, but just talkin' with you today got me to thinkin' about all the horrible shit they put me through. I'm torn, though. Part of me feels relief, but there's also sadness. It didn't have to come to this had they actually stopped for just a moment and thought about it. That's what makes it so sad to me. They believed in their own bullshit agenda for so long they convinced themselves it was the truth, the way things should be. They couldn't be reasoned with, they were so far gone. In the last days, their faith is what drove them insane. It was like livin' in a damn mental ward and the damn inmates were runnin' the asylum while security was takin' a nap. Aside from all the lives lost....the real tragedy was how many lives had been wasted, how many genuinely good people had fallen victim to this toxic way of thinkin'. Not only that, but...if they woke up and knew the truth about Kalona and what exactly he was, there wouldn't have been a Zion Mountain Incident. Belief is what gave Kalona power, along with the sacrifices made on his behalf. LM: If Duncan Yearwood was the founder of the cult, then what would he hope to gain from it? He was no more human than the next person, only he had fused with Kalona for a short time during the war. Was it based on the visions he had or was he bein' told to carry out 'god's will'? KC: That's a question I'm afraid will probably never be answered. Duncan kept a journal, which acted as the basis for the teachings, and he kept a pretty damn impressive record of almost everything that went on in his life. Unfortunately, the cult's inner circle wouldn't ever allow the contents of those journals to be brought into the light because...its some of the most disturbing shit you'll ever come across. All I know is that Duncan started the cult under his own power after the war had ended. When Kalona fuses with people, he has a tendency to stay that way until the host body dies years later of natural causes. Remember how I said he's like a parasite? That's what he does. He doesn't have a real reason to temporarily fuse with people because it kind of defeats the purpose, unless...unless there's some sort of underlyin' motive for it.

#my writings #psychological horror #southern gothic?#tw: disturbing content #Zion Mountain Chronicles #writing #Lovecraftian horror #get ready to be creeped out #work in progress

2 notes · View notes

dwestfieldblog · 4 years

Text

FIFTY FOUR YEARS OF SELF ISOLATING

(AND ANTI SOCIAL DISTANCING)

‘Humanity is finally ready to sacrifice its freedom to gain its security’ Soon? Thousands head for the beaches, to sweat two feet away from their neighbours in the sand and suck up that healthy fresh air...or crowd face to face and shout drunkenly outside pubs. Europe watching in stunned horror as governments in Britain and America get it all wrong. Meanwhile Putin (SuperTsar to 2036) continues to smirk his baldhead off as all three continue to disintegrate. Divide and conquer. Insanity, lies, fear and loathing in the time of Covid.

‘Anyone can get it, anyone can spread it’. That was one of the British Government’s slogans many many weeks ago...But the wearing of masks on public transport only became mandaTORY (see what I did there?) on Monday 15th June. Five months too late and with over 42 thousand dead by that date. How’s that Herd Immunity working out for you Mr Cummings, looking good? Our version of the foul Bannon perhaps. A man who appears to suffer from the same fatal flaw as all those close to Money and Power...the rules (which he himself oversaw and wrote for Boris) don’t apply to such as he. And so, off he drove with wife and child for a couple of hundred miles to test his eyesight to see if he was ill. And Boris himself also broke all the rules...shaking hands in hospital with Covid patients, ignoring distancing, etc. He missed several important EU meetings about the virus early on and missed COBRA getting together three times. Self serving, blathering incompetent moron. Get that Russia Report out soon Boris, let’s see where your party’s money is from... scared of the effect it will have on your sugar daddy overseas? Tweedledum and Tweedledumber. And what about that 350 MILLION POUNDS every week for the NHS, coming soon eh?

The shameful fiasco with the masks and surgical equipment manufactured in the UK...the makers told the governments about six weeks before the virus started to bite, that they had hundreds of thousands of items ready to sell AT COST. Boris’s government told them NO...so they were sold to Europe. Ha. Doctors and nurses could and should have been given them. Then the UK eventually started importing these things from Europe and CHINA, at massive cost. Meanwhile, the majority of English people repeated the party line that masks were only for professionals who needed them, missing the idea they could make one for themselves from cloth. We used to be good at ‘making do’ and being inventive with resources but someone told us that masks were unhealthy...as compared to say, an airborne virus which can cause embolisms in the lungs. (For the record; blood oxygen remains at full and NO extra carbon dioxide is re-inhaled.) The percentage of droplets not breathed in or released by wearing a mask shows it is well worth putting one on. Give yourself a fighting chance.

Groups of brain-dead less than holy ‘Christian’ Trump supporters in the USA have ranted that masks ‘kill’, ignoring the fact that if that were actually true, doctors, nurses, dentists and firemen would have been dropping like flies for decades. ‘I don’t wear a mask because it imposes on my freedom’...because it is clearly a deep state system of control eh? Some thick as shite UK protestors rebelled against social distancing and the wearing of masks by having group hugs of defiance, blaming 5G TV masts for the virus. ‘My Body My Choice.’ No, not this time pal. Get ill, walk around big mouth flapping, infecting dozens more, go to hospital and expect others to help you for free? F..k off, cough, stay home and die. Lockdown in this context is NOT New World Order stuff. TV masts can do many things but magically causing viral infections in CO2 is not one of them. (Or perhaps the false information used in the despicable Rush Limbaugh and Alex Jones spiels relayed over the air is, paranoia is certainly infectious.) Shame ‘the rain falls on us all, just and unjust’, be marvelous if only ijeets got Covid and the world got lighter.

Roll call of the best...The National Health Service, (in fact ALL those working on the front line in hospitals globally.)The hyperbole about heroes is accurate in their case, above and beyond. But the party in Britain, who has done so much to undermine them, have been encouraging folk to go into the streets to clap for the NHS. Insulting with irony. Nice and English, very polite and white to be achieving nothing more than salving consciences with bugger all of substance. May Goddess and the Snake bless the NHS.

I only discovered JONATHAN PIE in the last few weeks, (Thanks to Killing Joke’s Youth) amazed nobody recommended him to me before. Best comedian from the ‘U’K in the last thirty years. Factual satire to the highest. And good to see the new Labour leader Sir Kier Starmer, a man who EARNED his KCB/ knighthood, not bought it by donating funds, destroying Boris at every Question Time by exposing his utter lack of honesty and answers. At last, a leader who is/seems to be, intelligent, moral with empathy and has brought to book those on left and right. First good thing he did was to remove those from the Marxist Momentum. He has been slagged off by various slags as another ‘champagne socialist’. He owns a field and his Mum and dad were a toolmaker and a nurse. Sounds like a real fake so far eh? A barrister...who understands the LAW and would be/will be a believable PM. The first one in my lifetime for whom I would vote, whether or not I could, ha ha, ever be a socialist. I will certainly NEVER (means NEVER) be a Conservative or a Libertarian and don’t much feel like a Liberal. Labels are only for those who are proud to advertise and virtue signal. Fnord. A concerned citizen? Oh and downwards we go now...

Trump recommended using detergent to destroy the virus...please go for it man, DO IT and all your rabid followers too. Satanic Evangelicals, cheering as he...drinks a glass of water with one hand and tosses it aside! A master of the universe right there. His casual statement about the reappearance of Kim wrong Un...‘I, for one am glad to see he is back, alive and well!’ His idiotic wondering over what the 19 in Covid 19 stands for. Don’t forget kids...‘If we didn’t do any testing, we would have very few cases’. And ‘I said, can we slow the testing down please?’Five pages could be filled here with verbatim bullshit he has said this year, his entire July 3rd and 4th speeches alone would fill three. Shame the puppet is in debt to the oligarchs isn’t it? The truth will OUT.

(How Nice and Christian of America to have bought up ALL stocks of Remdesivir for the next three months, perhaps they mean to sell it at vast profit or give it free...but only for those who vote the Right way.)

The lizard in chief, who has used Twitter for three years of s..t stirring rhetoric, outright lies and the wrong type of insanity thousands of times has now claimed that Twitter are ‘completely stifling free speech’. (This was in relation to the possibility that polling stations would have to be closed in November if Covid maintains.) Due to him tweeting ‘There is no way (zero) that mail-in ballots (postal votes) will be anything less than substantially fraudulent.’ Twitter added to his words, a small, polite warning that this claim was ‘Unsubstantiated’ Well, it is. The majority of what the spoiled child says is indeed only his baseless and deranged opinion. For this outrageous caveat to his words of stable genius, he wants to revoke Section 230 of the Communications Decency Act. This would mean strict penalties or close-down on service providers of social media when it appears that distributors of such are acting as publishers.

However, in 1997 the Supreme Court in the USA declared the CDA unconstitutional, so would this be another case of him wiping brown cheeseburger smears on the Constitution yet again? Fascinating that so many who support him do not seem to genuinely support such things as the Bill of Rights and the Constitution. But then, freedom in a democracy means having the right to destroy your freedoms eh? ‘In filth, sublimity; in sublimity, filth’. Robot Zuckerberg’s Facebook removed the trump advert (the one with the nazi upside down red triangle symbol) for violating their policy against organised hate. At last they notice what he has been writing. Having social media giants finally stand up to him at the same time more Republicans (Hello Lincoln Project, shame it took three and a half years and 135 thousand deaths ) are ripping at his heels, and the basic normal minded voters seeing him for what he truly is, might be enough...and I believe it WILL.

And Goddess bless the all Tik Tok Teens for booking Trump rally tickets and then not going. Laughed my arse off at the rabid right wing demanding the kids be arrested for it. Beautiful, peaceful organised anarchy...perhaps there is indeed hope for the future if the young are up to this. But many groups on Left and right are funded directly by the Kremlin, it helps to chaos things up. Wonder if the KKK and the BNP would be happy to know where their money comes from... whether Nationalism really matters to them when it is supported by those who seek the overthrow of their countries. And many Anti fascist groups get their moolah via the same channels. Dream of the day when both sides realise how much they are being manipulated by the bastards with a grip on basic primate psychology. Where does the money come from? Look.

Speaking of such...beware of Steve Bannon. Again. Global Nationalistic traveller spreading the word and the channels of finance to those who would take over the world. One more false Christian seeking to rally the world against fascist Islamist death cults (easy to do, they are truly scum and swine), China (only the evil soul dead government yes) and any non right wing atheists. The advisor whose every word on his future world vision is adhered to by Donald, (apart from when he hilariously criticised both him and his daughter.) One of the most dangerous men in the world right now, uniting the populist nationalists and all those disaffected lost souls who feel the world owes them for being born. Angry because they fight evolving change, which is what life itself is remorselessly and thus their deep inner self, knowing they are wasting their time, gets ever angrier. But it is good to have an obsessive hobby eh?

‘Snowflakes won’t last long in Texas/looks like we got us a Reader/you aint from around here are you boy?’ Well bollocks to snowflakes obviously, but Texas? The self righteous land stealing oil swilling blubberbucket cowboy fascist homeland. Doing just fine with Covid since Trumpists decided masks were a Liberal conspiracy run by Jews. Etc. Jumpin Jehovah yeehah and oy vey. Cosmic schmucks. But...‘What is believed to be true, is true or becomes true’ This creates further neuron connections and changes perception, re-programmes and perhaps explains why almost all sides think they are always correct. But over half only seem to Invoke often and eventually perpetuate loops of entropy, they don’t Banish often and cleanse to the purer. Brainwashed by self hypnosis and proud of it. Anal retentives loving their own dirt, believing their own propaganda but not accepting new information unless it conforms to what they have already decided is real and imprinted as truth. Neophobes, in a word. The conspiracy of counter evolution...

‘A political philosophy, movement or regime that exalts nation and often race above the individual, and that stands for a centralised autocratic government headed by a dictatorial leader, severe economic and social regimentation and forcible suppression of opposition.’ Definition of Fascism.

How many countries fit that pattern? China. Russia. Saudi Arabia. North Korea. Brazil, Turkmenistan, Belousrussia, America, parts of Europe...and Britain step by step...anywhere else where populism is rising. ‘The state is the coldest of all cold monsters and coldly it tells lies, and this lie oozes from its lips; ‘I, the state, am the people.’ Nietzsche.

‘Disobedience was man’s original virtue’. Oscar Wilde. You know what to do. But pull back on the useless iconoclasms kids; don’t give the bastards NO ‘just cause’.

‘All words transmitted as sonic or visual signals – sound waves or light waves - rapidly become photons, electrons, neurotransmitters, hormones, colloidal reactions, reflex arcs, conditioned or imprinted ‘frames’, physiological responses etc as they impact upon the total synergetic organism. ‘Perception’ consists of a complex series of codings and decodings as in form-ation trans-forms itself through successive sub-systems of the organism as a whole.’ (Robert Anton Wilson) Get it? Choose your magick words with care.

Stay sane and zetetic if you want to be or go freaking crazy, go to the park and read a book, alone in the sunny shade. Keep laughing. Avoid crowds, groups and other people.Love from the Lone Derranger... Enjoy July 23rd via psychic and internet connections and don’t forget...

‘It is only on the cross that the rose may bloom’.

0 notes